


Inescapable

by DMHP2014



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Banter, F/M, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Romance, Smut, Time Jump, Wartime, dramione - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-02 12:14:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 127,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13317888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DMHP2014/pseuds/DMHP2014
Summary: *WIP* It happened one night. Neither of them know why they let it go as far as it did, but it's too late now. Their need for each other is inescapable. Find out how Draco and Hermione get themselves tangled up in a secret love affair whilst on opposite sides of the war. Will they get their happily ever after?... Maybe. But it's not going to be easy. 6th Year and onwards. DRAMIONE.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome :) Thank you so much for clicking on my story. I'll just give you a quick run down of what to expect without really giving anything away. This story starts off in 6th year, but will continue on throughout the war. I'm going to be kind of following the story line that's in the original books, however, it may veer off course slightly with events happening a little differently, or at different times throughout the story. Of course, this is a Dramione, so Draco and Hermione are the main pair and focus. It will switch between their POV's so that you can get a proper feel for both characters. You will also see them interact with other characters too - Harry, Ron, Blaise, Theo, Pansy & Snape (to name a few). This story will have EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT. At the moment, there are no major warnings other than the first chapter may be considered slightly dub-con, but that really only applies to people who are easily triggered. So, if you are someone who is easily triggered, please take this warning into consideration before reading. If any other warnings pop up along the way, I will be sure to let you know at the beginning of the chapter that contains that sensitive material. As previously stated, this story will span the whole of 6th year, and continue on throughout the war. In my story, the war will be several years long, not a year like in the original books. There will be a time jump after Dumbledore's death - not sure how big of a time jump yet, but I expect it will be 2-3 years. I want to be clear, my aim is that you'll be happy and satisfied once you've finished reading. I don't intend for this to be a sad ending, although there will be extremely sad events that happen throughout the story. It will start off quite funny, with lots of great banter between Draco and Hermione, but after that it will get rather angsty. If you have any questions, please don't hesitate to contact me. Now please, enjoy :). I'm so excited to share this journey with you.

Draco slipped out of the Room of Requirement, feeling completely and utterly hopeless.

Well, this was it. He was going to die. There was no doubt about it.

Dread clawed its way up his throat at the thought, and he felt like vomiting. He rubbed a trembling hand over his face and released a shaky breath.

Christ, he was  _fucked_. As fucked as anyone could be.

He'd failed, yet again, to fix the Vanishing Cabinet. He simply couldn't do it. He had tried everything,  _everything,_ and it...

Draco whipped his head around, eyes darting around the deserted corridor. He could have sworn he'd just heard something. He narrowed his eyes and stared into the shadows, but nothing was there.

Great, now he was paranoid on top of everything else. Though given the current situation, he probably had good reason to be.

It was probably Potter, the specky git, he had been following Draco around, under that ridiculous cloak of his, every chance he got.

Draco breathed in deeply, trying to calm his frayed nerves. If Potter was spying on him right now, he really ought to be careful. He couldn't give anything away. He had to act normal.

Draco continued down the darkened corridor, shoving his hands into his pockets in a relaxed manner. Every so often he would glance out of the arched windows as he strolled by them at a leisurely pace.

Nothing to see here, just a student taking a midnight stroll through the castle, everyone did it, it wasn't really  _that_  suspicious... Except maybe it was. He was a Death Eater now after all, and he was pretty sure that Potter had almost figured it out because why else would the annoying twat follow Draco around and glare at him knowingly whenever they shared a class together?

Draco tried not to dwell on that thought because if Potter really did know, then he was  _definitely_  fucked, and it was only a matter of time before the Order of the Phoenix took him in.

Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing. They wouldn't outright kill him, and perhaps if he cooperated, they would cut him a little slack, eventually... but his Mother - his heart dropped to his stomach - she would die for his treachery. She will probably die anyway because he couldn't complete the tasks the Dark Lord had set him.

Either way he was totally fucked.

Draco was suddenly angry. Angry at everything. Angry at the fact that he couldn't do what was needed of him and especially angry at Perfect, Fuck-Boy, Potter.

Life just wasn't  _fair_.

Draco felt so alone, he felt like he couldn't trust anyone, not his friends,  _no one_. The only person he was certain he could trust was his Mother, but he'd been cut off from all contact with her until the tasks were complete. He had no one to talk to about this, he was bearing this burden alone, and he could barely stand the weight of it.

Draco heard a shoe scuff on the stone floor behind him and knew for certain now that Potter was following him. Again. The  _Bastard_.

Draco spun around to face the seemingly empty corridor, grey eyes narrowing dangerously. He heard the unmistakable sound of a sharp intake of breath just off to the left of where he stood, and sneered before charging in that direction. He felt his body come into contact with an invisible, yet solid, form and propelled himself forward until he rammed the arsehole right into the stone wall.

There was a pained wheeze followed by a gasping splutter, and then Draco gripped a handful of the invisibility cloak and pulled.

" _Granger?_ " he said, disbelievingly. "What the fuck are you doing? Where's Potter? And why do you have his cloak?"

Hermione, still gasping for breath after having the wind knocked out of her, gazed up into partly confused but mostly angry grey eyes.

"Well?" the blond demanded.

"Can't,"  _gasp,_ "breathe," _gasp._

Draco released her and took a step back, rolling his eyes in disgust as he watched her bend over and attempt to even out her breathing. "This is what you get for following me around," he hissed angrily. "This is an invasion on my privacy."

Hermione simply glared at him and continued to wheeze.

"I know that Potter has been following me around for weeks, I'm not simple and Potter isn't as stealthy as he thinks he is, even with his stupid cloak. I must admit though, I didn't know that you were in on this farce too, though I shouldn't be surprised. I suppose Weasley's involved as well," he continued.  _Fucking Gryffindors_. "What is the bloody meaning of this? I've been keeping to myself since the start of term. All I want is to be left alone."

"Well that's just it," Hermione said, straightening up, her breathing almost back to normal now. "You're acting strange, Harry thinks you're up to something.  _Are_  you up to something, Malfoy?" she asked with a slight lilt to her tone.

Draco stared at her, his heart kicking up a notch. Potter was onto him, he'd known it, but now it had been confirmed.

"Potter's an idiot," he answered calmly and matter-of-factly. "I thought you were supposed to be smart, Granger? Clearly you're not if you're listening to the likes of him."

Hermione gritted her teeth in annoyance. Truth was, she didn't really think Malfoy was up to anything. She was doing this purely to satisfy Harry's suspicions. Harry seemed to think that Malfoy had taken the Dark Mark, but Hermione and Ron weren't convinced, he was 16 for Christ's sake, but even though Hermione didn't believe Malfoy had fully joined the dark side, she had to admit that the blond was acting very peculiar indeed.

"You're acting strange, Malfoy," Hermione reiterated. "It's a fact and everyone has noticed. You barely talk to anyone, even your friends. You've completed isolated yourself. Why?"

"That's none of your fucking business," he spat. "Don't concern yourself with what I do or do not do."

Hermione sighed impatiently and rolled her eyes. "You're drawing attention to yourself, think about it. You've gone from being the loud, obnoxious, school bully to this quiet, introverted, person who ignores everyone he comes into contact with."

Malfoy's face went eerily blank at her summarisation of the sudden changes in him.

Had he really been that obvious? He tried to think back over the last few months but couldn't recall anything other than trying to fix that goddamn cabinet. It had literally taken over every aspect of his life. It was all that mattered these days. "I don't have to explain myself to you, Granger," he told her, voice quiet yet firm. "Just stay out of my fucking way and, while you're at it, tell Potter to go fuck himself."

At that, Draco turned on his heel, done with talking to the interfering cow.

"Harry's not going to stop," Hermione called after him. "He's convinced that you're up to something. Maybe if you didn't disappear into the Room of Requirement nearly every night, he wouldn't think anything was off. He knows that you go into the Room of Hidden Things, you spend hours in there. What is it that you're doing?"

Draco stopped dead in his tracks, his heart beating wildly in his chest. Potter knew a lot more than he'd originally thought.  _Fuck_. If Potter found out, Draco was dead, Draco's Mother was dead.

"He will find out what you're up to," she added with certainty, and as the final word left her mouth, something in Draco snapped.

He spun around to face her, his expression cold and unnerving, as he stalked back towards her.

He felt wild inside. Wild with anger, fear and desperation. He was fighting a losing battle and, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't change the outcome, he had but four months to complete his tasks, and if he didn't... he swallowed thickly, not wanting to think about what would happen. And  _Potter -_  he cursed the name to the depths of hell and back - along with his little posse were onto him. They just couldn't leave well enough alone. They had to stick their noses in where they didn't belong. Draco felt positively murderous, he wanted revenge, he wanted to  _hurt_  Potter, but seeing as he wasn't here, the mudblood would have to do.

Draco aimed his wand at the nearest classroom door, and with a whoosh it opened to slam against the stone wall.

Hermione cringed at the sound and glanced up and down the corridor, fearful that they would get caught out after curfew.

Draco sneered, not giving a toss if they were caught or not, he was beyond caring now. He gripped her upper arm and dragged her into the old disused classroom, swiftly closing and locking the door behind them before giving her a shove, which nearly had her falling flat on her face.

"Malfoy," she bit out, righting herself. "What on earth are you doing?"

Draco ignored her and flung up a series of privacy wards that had Hermione's eyes darkening with apprehension.

"Malfoy?" she said, firmer this time. " _What_  are you doing?"

In truth, Draco hadn't a clue, he was just  _doing_. He needed a release of some sort. He felt caged. Trapped. He figured that taking his anger out on one of the golden trio should make him feel marginally better.

He continued to ignore her as he stalked towards her.

"Malfoy-"

"Shut up."

Hermione gritted her teeth in annoyance,  _how dare he tell her to shut up._ She raised her wand to hex him a good one, but he was quicker than she anticipated, and he had her disarmed before she even had the chance to utter a single word.

Draco threw her wand, as well as his own, to the far corner of the room before advancing on her again.

Hermione frowned in confusion as both wands rolled to rest against the wall, far out of reach.

"Why did you do that?" she asked, backing swiftly away from him. She wasn't scared of him, but she didn't want him near her either.

He smirked when he reached out and she dodged him by slipping under his arm and spinning away in the opposite direction.

_Smooth._

Draco turned slowly to face her. "You and those two dickheads you call your best friends have gotten on my last nerve, Granger," he told her calmly. "You're always there. Always getting in my way. Always  _fucking_  everything up. It's a shame, I don't really have anything against you or the weasel, except for the fact that you're a mudblood and he's a bloodtraitor, of course. Oh, and that you're friends with the chosen-pillock. Actually, come to think of it, I fucking  _hate_  you.  _Despise you_."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "The feeling's mutual, I can assure you."

This caused Draco to bark out a deep laugh.

Hermione stared at his perfectly straight, pearly white teeth and hated him just a little more.

Draco took another step towards her and then another, while Hermione took several steps back, always keeping a safe distance, until suddenly the backs of her legs connected with something hard, a desk by the feel of it, and she winced.

Malfoy's silver eyes flashed victoriously, and before Hermione knew it, he was right in front of her, trapping her against the desk.

"I'm not scared of you, Malfoy," she told him firmly, brown eyes staring up into captivating silver.

"You should be, Granger," he responded lowly, and she shivered. The way he'd said it, it was like a warning. Not in a threatening sense, more like a grave exhortation that shouldn't be ignored, which in her opinion was very scary indeed.

There were only a few inches between them, and Hermione could literally feel his body heat and smell the subtle scent of his alluring, likely expensive, cologne.

They stood staring at one another for long moments, too long to be acceptable by any means, both examining each other's faces like they'd never done before. They had never been this close before. It was strange, it was like they were looking at completely different people. Neither one of them moved or said a word for what felt like a very long time. The room was deathly silent, except for their slightly accelerated breaths.

"What are you going to do to me, Malfoy?" Hermione eventually asked, not being able to take the silence anymore, her voice quiet and timid. So unlike her usual confident, sometimes bossy, tone.

Draco lifted a slightly trembling hand to her face and ran it softly over her jaw before cupping the back of her head firmly.

Hermione's breath hitched, alarm bells sounding in her brain. She parted her lips to say something, but no words came forth. He looked fierce and determined, his silver eyes boring into hers, and it scared the shit out of her.

He inched forward, pressing his lithe, yet toned, frame against her shorter form. "Malfoy," she breathed, and just as the last syllable left her mouth he crashed his lips against hers.

Hermione's mind went blank of all thought, all thought expect for the lips moving tantalizingly over hers. Taking. Claiming. She fully lost herself in the rousing sensations of the dominating kiss. It was like nothing she had ever experienced before. It was raw, desperate, and maddening, all at the same time.

She felt the hand at the back of her head grip a handful of hair and pull, tugging her head back to deepen the kiss further. She moaned deeply, fully submitting to the tongue that forced its way past her lips and swirled against her own.

Her body zinged and pulsed with an arousal she had never felt before, it was like she couldn't control it. It was taking over every stray thought, as well as all her senses, whilst simultaneously sending her morals and values packing.

Hermione gasped as she felt herself being suddenly lifted, as if she weighed nothing at all, to be deposited roughly on top of the desk.

Hungry hands parted her legs and then ran up the outside of her thighs, under her skirt, gripping her hips firmly and pulling her flush against something long and hard that she felt jab her right in her core.

" _Ah_ ," she groaned, throwing her head back and breaking the kiss, spikes of pleasure radiating through her body.

She felt lips on her neck, sucking, kissing, and teeth grazing the sensitive skin. It was heavenly, and she never wanted it to stop.

Hermione pressed herself more firmly against the solid flesh at her core and rutted wantonly, moaning at the delicious friction and heightened sensations it caused. It was addicting, it was like a drug. She wanted more. She wanted to consume it all and drift away on a pleasure-filled high.

" _Fuck_ ," came a deep gravelly tone. "I fucking knew you'd be like this, Granger. Such a cock hungry  _whore_."

At the sound of that despicable voice, Hermione's blood instantly turned to ice in her veins, her senses rushing back to her vividly and painfully acute.

She took in his swollen lips and flushed cheeks and then looked down at where their hips were fused together, her skirt bunched around her hips, exposing her bare thighs, and felt his erection pressing obscenely against her vagina.

What on earth was she  _doing?_ Had she lost her goddamn mind? This was Draco Malfoy!

Hermione pushed at his chest, causing him to stumble back a few steps. "Get away from me," she said, voice weak and trembling.

God, she felt sick.

Malfoy narrowed his eyes at her and then advanced on her again.

Hermione's eyes widened in fear at the wicked look on his aristocratic face, and she kicked her legs out to keep him from coming any closer. The toe of her shoe connected with his shin, and she watched him grit his teeth and let out a fowl curse.

"Stop," he growled menacingly. "Goddammit, stop!"

"Don't!" she yelled as he forced himself between her legs again and pinned her arms to her sides. "Please, don't, just let me go," she wiggled helpless for long moments before finally slumping against him in defeat. He was too strong for her. She couldn't get away.

"Don't act like the victim, Granger," he gritted in her ear. "You were rubbing yourself against me like a horny little slut. You were loving it.  _You fucking wanted it_ ," he spat incredulously.

Hermione closed her eyes tightly as shame engulfed her. He was right, she did want it. And in some sick part of her mind  _still_  wanted it. What was wrong with her?  _What was wrong with her!?_

" _You_  kissed  _me_ ," she suddenly seethed, needing to defend herself in some way. "Why did you kiss me, Malfoy?" Malfoy stiffened against her, and she continued, feeling bolder by the second. "You started this. Not me. Why did you kiss me?!"

He snarled at her in response.

"You lifted me onto the desk," she hissed through gritted teeth. "You pressed yourself against  _me_. You're hard! You want this too. So don't you dare point the finger and make me feel like a whore. You -"

"But you are a whore!" he proclaimed loudly and menacingly.

Hermione's hand whipped out, and she slapped him hard across the face, breathing hard from the rage coursing through her veins. She instantly cringed away from the crazed induced fury written all over his face, or at least as far away from him as she could in her current situation, expecting him to retaliate.

He did retaliate, just not in the way she expected him to.

One minute she was looking into storm-grey, livid eyes, and the next he was kissing her again like there was no tomorrow.

It was more desperate this time, more wild and animalistic.

Draco broke the kiss for a fraction of a second while he yanked her jumper over her head before crashing his lips back to hers, hungrily.

Hermione groaned, pressing herself closer to him, hands gripping his hair, nails digging in his neck, his shoulders - surely drawing blood. She needed  _more_.

They broke apart, panting, as she attempted to rid him of his jumper and shirt. He ended up pulling his jumper off himself as Hermione tore at his shirt buttons, hastily yanking them through the holes.

Malfoy didn't bat an eyelid, instead he carefully undid her shirt buttons one by one, so calm in contrast to Hermione's frenzied manner, while she tugged on his belt and fumbled at the zipper on his trousers, her hands skimming over taunt abs and lean muscle.

Malfoy hissed when her fingers gripped him through his boxes, and he doubled his efforts, finally getting her shirt open and reaching around to deftly unclasp her bra and pull it down.

His hands cupped her bare breast, needing, squeezing, as she thrust her chest out arching her back towards him.

Draco hungrily kissed his way from her mouth down her neck and over her collarbone, until he found her right nipple and sucked it sharply into his mouth, ripping a high-pitched moan from her throat. His fingers grazed her thighs before hooking into her knickers and dragging them swiftly down her legs to her ankles.

Hermione felt a finger brush teasingly against her dripping wet slit before pushing through her folds, finding her clit and rubbing. She cried out as pleasure lanced through her body and unfurled low in her pelvis.

"Fuck, you're so wet," he groaned in her ear, sending shivers down her spine. "Do you like that?"

She felt a finger probe at her entrance and then slip in all the way to the knuckle. She rocked her hips on his hand as she pulled his head towards her and sucked his bottom lip into her mouth, biting and nibbling the flesh.

All too soon, he was pulling his hand away and replacing it with something long, thick, and hard.

Hermione gasped as she felt the blunt head of his cock press firmly against her entrance, stretching her out in a way she had never felt before. She hissed in pain and tried to pull away as he continued to push in further.

"No," he said firmly, gripping her hips tightly. "There's no going back now."

Hermione stared into wild, lust-filled silver eyes, pupils blown wide, and felt him thrust sharply into her, ripping her wide open and burying himself all the way to the hilt.

Hermione screamed in agony, fire burning her up from the inside out. "You bastard!" she sobbed.

"Ssh, ssh," he hushed her, smoothing the hair away from her face in an uncharacteristic gesture. "It will feel better in a minute, I promise. Just relax, please, just relax."

He withdrew a little and then pushed back in, groaning deeply as he did so.

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and gripped at his shoulders, burying her face in his neck and wincing at the increased pain, wishing fervently for it to end. His dark musky scent surrounded her senses, slightly distracting her from what was happening.

Draco continued to thrust in and out of her, slowly at first, but then increasing the pace and driving in deeper. It was then that Hermione started to feel it, a small spark of pleasure deep in her pelvis. She gasped and angled her hips forward, meeting his thrusts, seeking more of it. She dug her nails into his bare back as he drove his cock into her again and again and again.

Malfoy lifted her up slightly and pushed her back on the desk before climbing on top of her and lifting one of her legs to rest on his shoulder.

Hermione cried out as pleasure shot up her spine and down her legs, shocking her with its sudden intensity. "Oh god,  _yes_."

"Mmm," Malfoy hummed, pressing his face to her neck and licking. "Do you like that?"

" _More_ ," she choked out.

Draco pounded into her hard, sucking the skin of her neck into his mouth and biting the delicate flesh.

"Fuck," he groaned brokenly. "I'm gonna come.  _Fuck_. I'm gonna come."

His admission, along with the way he proclaimed it - like he was in sweet agony - was enough to push her over the edge. She arched her back up and thrust her hips as her orgasm rocketed through her, sending her body spasming out of control as she screamed her release.

Malfoy felt the muscles of her walls pulse and clamp down around his cock and grunted lowly as he came in long spurts, come coating her insides. He collapsed on top of her with a satisfied groan and closed his eyes, sweet relief and peace washing over him for what felt like the first time in months.

Hermione lay with her eyes closed, basking in the aftermath of her blissful orgasm. It was like nothing she had ever felt before. She reveled in the feel of his full weight pressing her into the desk and allowed herself to get lost in the moment.

After a time, Draco opened his eyes and gazed at her face. She looked so relaxed and unconcerned, her eyes gently closed, cheeks flushed, and red swollen lips slightly parted. He looked at her hair, wild and out of control from his fingers combing through it, and wondered if this was what it looked like when she woke up every morning.

Hermione's eyes fluttering open, pulling him from his irrelevant thought, and he found himself staring into soft brown eyes.

He jerked upright as if startled and watched her wince as his cock slipped free of her. He glanced down at her open thighs, which were smeared red with blood and other bodily fluids, and felt his stomach churn unpleasantly.

_Shit. What had he done?_

Suddenly, the weight of what had just happened bore down on him, almost crushing him. He felt panic grip him tightly by the throat. He could hardly breathe.

Draco looked back up at her and found her staring at his cock. He looked down at his mostly flaccid length, to see what she was looking at, and found it was covered in his come and her blood and juices.

He felt sick and  _dirty_. What the fuck had he done?

Draco slid down from the desk and pulled up his boxers and trousers, fastening them hastily.

Hermione watched him silently, her heart thudding in her throat as she quickly scrambled off the desk and attempted to right her clothes, all manner of thoughts running through her mind at a million miles per second. Then, just as she was buttoning her shirt up, Malfoy rounded on her, his own shirt still gaping open and disheveled.

"You speak of this to  _no one_ ," he growled, pointing his finger in her face. "Do you understand?"

Hermione felt a mixture of irrational hurt and very rational anger unfurl in her chest. She smacked his finger away. "As if I would," she spat back at him.

"This never happened," he swallowed. "Do you hear me? It never fucking happened."

"Forgot about it already," she told him and didn't feel bad at all that her hand print was still glowing on his cheek from when she'd slapped him earlier. In fact, she had a mind to give him a matching one on the other cheek.

His nostrils flared, and he glanced over her shoulder, virtually vibrating with anger, and then he spun around and snatched his tie and jumper from the floor before storming out of the classroom without so much as a backwards glance.

It was a long walk back to the Slytherin dungeons, she hoped he got caught on the way. She wondered how he would explain the state of his undress and found that she didn't care one iota.

Hermione bent and picked her jumper up from the floor, wincing at the ache she felt deep in her stomach. It brought what had just happened swiftly back to the forefront of her mind, but she instantly expelled it and pulled her jumper over her head. She couldn't think about any of that right now because if she did, she would surely fall apart.

She was glancing around the classroom, making sure there was no evidence of what had transpired, when she spotted two wands in the corner of the room by the door.

Hers and Draco Malfoy's.

She walked over and picked them both up, gripping them tightly in her hand before exiting the classroom and making her way back to Gryffindor Tower.

She had a feeling she wouldn't be getting any sleep tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Massive thanks goes to Black_Osmosis for beta reading this chapter :D


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Black_Osmosis for making sure all my commas are in the right places :D hehe. You're the comma queen!

_No_. That did not just happen.  _It didn't_.

Draco ran a shaky hand through his short hair, gripping a fistful of it and pulling in sheer frustration. He felt like screaming. He felt like punching something.

_How had this happened?_

Draco thought back to what had just occurred between him and the mudblood, and instantly retched. He had to stop and lean against the banister on the staircase between the fourth and third floors, whilst he attempted to get his gag reflex under control.

He must have lost his goddamn mind.

 _Granger..._ of all the fucking people. It was truly sickening. Flashes of imagines and sounds ran rampant in his mind.

_Her mouth. Her subtle curves. Her full breasts. The feel of her tight pussy clamping around his cock. Her enticing moans, urging him on._

She had been a virgin.  _A fucking virgin_. Yes, he'd mocked her about it on numerous occasions in the past, but he hadn't really thought that she  _was_. Jesus, she was attached at the hip to dumb and dumber. He was sure that one -  _or both_  - of them had stuck it to her at least once. Wow, they really were a pathetic bunch of pricks.

Draco groaned, rubbing a hand over his bare stomach. He flinched, glancing down. In his haste to get away from her he hadn't even bothered to button his shirt. Jesus, he looked a mess. He reached for his wand, intending to make himself look a bit more presentable, but s _hit_. It wasn't there. It was still in the classroom. He looked back in the direction he had just come from, and sighed. There was no point in going back, surely Granger had taken it, she would likely lord it over him now and not give it back. That's what he would do. He quickly fastened his shirt, and pulled his jumper over his head, running his hands down the front to smooth away any wrinkles. It wouldn't do to run into someone looking like he'd been dragged behind the Hogwarts Express for a good few miles.

He continued down the staircase, taking his time, listening out for any indication that Filch or Mrs Norris were near.

He tried not to dwell on Granger and the fact that he had put himself in an even more dire position than he had been at the beginning of the night - and that was certainly saying something. He almost wished he could go back in time. He would gladly accept his responsibilities without so much as a slight frown or minor thought of injustice. God, if only... but no, instead of helping, the universe had decided to fuck him over more thoroughly than before, likely as payback for his self-pity over the last few months.

 _Christ_. He'd shagged  _Granger._

Draco let that thought sink in for a minute.

It wasn't that the experience had been bad. No. Quite the opposite, actually. It was just that it was bloody  _Granger_. If anyone found out...  _shit_ , the thought was repugnant. Not just for the obvious reasons - one being she was muggle-spawn - but for the fact that if the Dark Lord ever found out, he would  _Avada_  the life right out of Draco,  _and her too._  And then god knows what Potter would do in retaliation for his precious mudblood dying. Probably murder everyone Draco had ever liked in some small capacity... Well, probably  _not,_  but it was possible. You never really knew what you were going to get with the chosen twat.

Draco reached the Sytherin common room and somehow managed to sneak up to his shared dormitory, and into his bed, without rousing a single soul.

He tossed and turned all night, which wasn't anything new, the only difference tonight was that this time, instead of plaguing thoughts of how he was going to fix the Vanishing Cabinet, he was trying to fight off thoughts of Granger and her tits, whilst also attempting to plan how the hell he was going to get his wand back.

He failed on both counts.

* * *

The next morning Draco was sat at the Sytherin table in the Great Hall, sipping on a goblet of pumpkin juice and glaring at the entrance.

His back was stinging something fierce thanks to all the scratches the little she-devil had gouged in his skin, his shower had almost been unbearable.

Draco had done a lot of thinking the night before. As well as playing, and replaying, his entire encounter with Granger in his mind, right from the moment he pulled Potter's cloak off her head, up to the second he left her in that classroom.

He ardently tried to forget about the part where he'd gotten hard over the memories of being buried deep inside her. He wasn't to blame for his reaction, he'd been stressed and tired, that was all. It was the only explanation. Still, it was  _revolting_.

He'd also thought a lot about what Granger had said to him  _before_  the classroom incident, when she'd told him that he was acting strange and that people were noticing.

Now that just wouldn't do. Draco couldn't allow anyone else getting suspicious of his motives. He already had Potter on his case, and that was quite enough to be getting on with,  _thank you very much_. From now on he had to be more careful, and one of the things he really ought to do was hang out with his friends more, you know, put up a solid front, so it looked as though everything was just fine and dandy. This was how he found himself striking up a conversation with Blaise and Theo earlier that morning while they were all getting dressed for the day.

_"Beautiful morning, isn't it?" Draco commented as he looked at himself in the mirror._

_Nobody answered._

_Draco frowned and turned to glare at his two oldest friends. "You know, when someone starts a conversation with you it's usually polite to respond in some form."_

_"Oh," Theo looked taken aback. "You were talking to us?"_

_Draco sneered. "Yes, you idiot, who else would I be talking to?" he thrust his arm out to indicate the other side of the room, which was ultimately empty of anything alive or able to converse._

_"I thought you were talking to yourself," Blaise shrugged. "You were looking at yourself."_

_Theo nodded in agreement. "Plus you haven't spoken a word to us in months, so..." he dragged the last word out, leaving an awkward silence in its wake._

_Draco let out a long suffering sigh, groaning deeply, as he stormed out of the room in a dramatic fashion._

It hadn't gone so well - but baby steps and all that tosh. At least they were sitting with him, even if all they did was just glance at him blankly every so often.

Draco smiled at them sardonically and watched as their eyes widened comically. Felling amused, he glanced back toward the entrance just in time to see Granger marching through the door, Potter and Weasel just ahead of her.

He narrowed his eyes, watching, as she slumped on the bench next to Potter and across from Weasley.

She looked pathetically maudlin, and it served to brighten Draco's mood, marginally. Clearly Granger had gotten as much sleep as he had last night.

She had a huge scarf wrapped around her neck in the most absurd way, it was like she was trying to bury her head in it or something. Draco grinned, he had an inkling as to why that was.

Draco relaxed into his seat a little and grabbed a piece of toast off the never-ending pile in the middle of the table. He felt relieved. All morning he had been picturing Scar-head and Weaselbee charging up and punching the living shite out of him, causing a massive Potter-esque scene, in true Gryffindor fashion. It was true, he had told Granger not to tell anyone about what had happened between them, but he hadn't believed that she would actually _listen_. Seeing that she had in fact stayed quiet though made him feel  _so_  much better about it all. Now all he had to do was keep the Dark Lord from reading his mind, and no one would ever have to know. Easy, right?

_Questionable._

* * *

Half an hour later, Draco was sat in Potions, trying, unsuccessfully, to catch Granger's eye. The little cow was putting in a valiant effort to totally ignore him, and he hated her just a little bit more for it, if that was even possible. She obviously knew why he was trying to get her attention. Also, she was still wearing that ridiculous red and gold scarf, and it made him want to strangle her with it.

Draco gritted his teeth and turned back to the front of the classroom, fidgeting restlessly. Snape -  _who was filling in for Slughorn that day_  - glared at him several times, clearly irritated by all his squirming, but he couldn't find it in him to care.

It wasn't until around halfway through the class that he saw Granger get up and disappear into the storeroom for more supplies. He jumped up from his stool and followed her without a moment's pause.

"Granger," he hissed, once inside the storeroom. "What the hell do you think you're playing at?"

Hermione turned and glared at him. Merlin's balls, but she looked rough. Like death warmed up. " _Me?"_ she retorted disbelievingly. "What the bloody hell are  _you_  playing at? You have been staring at me all morning. Could you be any more obvious? People might start suspecting something."

Draco sneered. "Oh please, like anyone would think I was staring at you for any other reason than the fact that I feel extremely vexed about all the air you waste breathing. Don't flatter yourself thinking otherwise. You're  _beneath_  me."

Hermione flinched, hurt clouding her features for a split second before vanishing, completely, to be replaced with a blank expression.

Draco looked her up and down, appraisingly.

"Here," she tossed his wand at him, and it hit him in the chest before clattering to the floor. "This is what you wanted, right?"

Draco picked up his wand, scowling at her, and began cleaning imaginary dirt and germs off it.

"What's up, Malfoy? Worried I might have contaminated it in some way?" she asked, like she thought he was pathetic.

"There's no  _might_  about it. I'm quite certain that you have," he replied, eyeing the polished wood reproachfully.

"You're probably right," she agreed and stepped closer to him, so that she could speak lowly in his ear. "But don't forget, you've already been infected with my impurity. It's all over your skin, soaked deep in your pores."

"Don't remind me," he gagged in disgust. "I'm surprised I have any skin left after all the scrubbing I did in the shower this morning."

"Oh, no amount of scrubbing will rid you of it," she told him somberly. "It's something you'll have to live with for the rest of your life. Kind of like if you had HIV."

"What's HIV?" he asked warily, like he didn't really want to know, but was asking anyway out of morbid curiosity.

Hermione gazed at him, her mouth slightly open in surprise. "You mean, you don't know? God, but it's  _awful_."

"Tell me," he demanded.

She gazed at him as if she was gearing up to impart some interesting and vitally important information. "There are these things called books. Look it up," she whispered, and then turned and walked out of the storeroom, leaving Draco spluttering in indignation.

"Bitch!" he bellowed after her and received a two hour detention for his troubles.

It was worth it.

* * *

A few weeks went by without much fanfare.

Draco had busied himself with acting as incessantly normal as possible. He went to classes, ate in the Great Hall at meal times, studied in the library and relaxed with his friends in the Slytherin common room. He'd put attempting to fix the Vanishing Cabinet on hold for the time being, but managed to find some time to search the restricted section in the library for anything that might be useful and could assist when he tried again. He had found a few books that he thought would be quite helpful, and was actually feeling much better about his task. He still hadn't managed to complete his other one, the one that he was really dreading, but he wasn't going to think about that right now. That could wait 'til later.

Granger had been pretty annoying, in the sense that she was the exact same know-it-all bint she'd always been. Draco had assumed that she would mope around for at least a week after the incident, devastated by the fact that she'd never have the chance to have fantastic sex with him again, but no, she seemed fine. Irritatingly so.

"Draco," Pansy whined. "Are you even listening to me?"

"Christ, I'm trying hard not to, but it's extremely difficult," he sighed.

Pansy pouted in the most ugly way he'd even seen. "Why do you aggrieve me so?"

Draco rolled his eyes so hard he nearly pulled a muscle. He severely regretted shagging her last weekend. Not only had she been the worst lay of his life, but she hadn't left him alone since. It was bothersome beyond belief. He'd only done it to shut her up... and if he were being totally honest, he'd wanted to erase the memory of Granger from his mind. It hadn't worked out so well, and now all he had to show for it was an infuriating,  _eerily pug-like,_ Pansy Parkinson who followed him around like a lost sheep.

"Go away, Pansy," he snapped, thoroughly fed up.

"But I wanted to tell you about -"

"GO," he pointed to the other side of the common room. She stood up, huffing indignantly, and strutted away.

It was Sunday and he was  _bored_.

"What's going on with you, Draco?" Blaise asked, putting his copy of  _Razzle_  down. It actually wasn't his copy at all, it was Seamus Finnigan's. Blaise had stolen it from the Irish half-blood last week in Transfiguration. It was a muggle porn mag, whatever that was. It had some interesting photographs in it, but they weirdly didn't move, and it creeped Draco out.

"Nothing, why?" he asked, kicking the mag off the arm of the chair Blaise was sitting on - there was a naked muggle staring right at him.

"You've been acting strange and -"

"For fucks sake! I'm not doing anything  _wrong_. I'm doing everything I'm supposed to. This is  _normal._  This is what a 6th year student does. I wish everyone would just  _stop_  saying I'm acting strange! I'm acting normal! Look at me, Blaise!" he stood up and gestured to himself, wildly. "SEE.  _NORMAL!_ " then he spun on his heel and exited the common room in a dramatic flair.

Blaise stared after him, eyes as wide as saucers.

"What the bloody-fuck was that all about?" Theo asked, sitting in the chair Draco had just vacated.

"Not a fucking clue," Blaise shook his head. "It's Draco," he said this like it made perfect sense, which it did.

* * *

Draco sighed as he made his way along the first floor corridor towards the library.

He certainly could have handled that better...  _waaaaay_  better, but he was just so frustrated. He was making a real effort to keep a low profile and act as ordinary as possible, yet he was still getting accused of acting strange. He couldn't win.

Draco entered the library and glanced around, it was virtually empty. He ventured to the right, around a huge column, intending to sit at his favorite table at the back, in a secluded corner by a large window - so that he could stare out of it and waste away the day - when he realised someone was already sitting there.

"Granger," he said, monotonously.  _Perfect, his day was getting better by the second._ "You're sat at my table," he informed her in a bored tone.

"Really? I don't see your name on it," she answered, not even bothering to look up from the text she was reading.

"Yes, well, sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but you have to move. This is my table, and I always sit here. So, run along."

She glanced up at him. "No," she said matter-of-factly and then looked back down at her book.

" _No?_ " he asked, incredulously, like the the word was offensive.

"No," she repeated. "No means no, Malfoy. Go and find somewhere else to sit."

Draco wasn't really surprised that she was choosing to be a selfish, table-hogging bitch.

He sat down across from her, slouching in his chair with his arms crossed, and stared at her.

After a few moments Hermione glanced up. "What are you looking at?"

"I'm not quite sure," he tilted his head to the side, squinting his eyes, appraisingly. "If I was pushed to say, it looks like a bird's nest sat above a large head that looks suspiciously like a cow, but instead of the usual black and white spots there are freckles.  _It's hideous_."

"Your maturity astounds me," she deadpanned.

Draco smiled caustically. "What on earth are you reading?" he asked, gazing at the garish pink and yellow cover.

"It's called  _'Mind Your Own Fucking Business'._ "

He barked out a laugh. "Funny. Bet that doesn't happen to you often."

Hermione sighed. "What do you want, Malfoy? Or are you just trying to irritate me to death?"

"Do you think that's a possibility?" he asked almost eagerly. "I'm more than happy to give it a good go if you think that it'll work."

She glared at him.

"Oh, lighten up, Granger. You're no fun."

"I hate you," Hermione told him plainly.

"You didn't hate me a few weeks back," he smirked. "In fact, I think you kind of liked me then," he finished suggestively.

Hermione scrunched up her nose in distaste. "You seem to have been grossly misinformed. I despised you then just as much as I despise you now. Don't let your giant ego convince you otherwise."

"Oh, silly me, I must have just imagined all the screams for ' _more!_   _yes!_   _oh god!'_ " he taunted her crudely, doing a terrible impersonation of Hermione in the throes of passion.

" _Fuck you!_ " she spat lividly, glancing around to make sure no one had overheard him.

"You already did," he grinned.

"You are a foul excuse of a man. Go and rot in hell."

" _Ouch,"_ he gasped, clutching a hand to his chest. "Careful, Granger, that almost hurt."

"Die," she told him firmly.

"Oh come off it, you don't  _really_  want me to die. If I did, who would you go to for a good shag?" he asked lowly, biting his bottom lip.

Hermione's mouth fell open in surprise.

"Just kidding," he snorted. "I would never fuck you again. Once was demeaning enough. Talking about fucking though," he continued conversationally. "Why did you do it?"

"What?" Hermione frowned.

"Why did you fuck me?" Draco asked, eyeing her critically. Until now he hadn't realized how much he'd wanted to know.

Hermione thought about it for a few moments before eventually answering with a sigh. "I don't know."

"You were a virgin," he stated, like she didn't already know.

"Yes, I'm well aware of that. Thank you for reminding me," she replied sarcastically.

"Was it because you fancy me?" He asked. "No one would blame you, trust me."

"Ew,  _no_ ," she grimaced. "And please, deflate that ginormous head of yours before you hurt someone."

"Was it some weird fantasy of yours then, you know, like a  _fucking-the-enemy_  kind of kink?" Draco continued to speculate wildly.

" _No!_ " she cried out. "What the hell do you take me for?"

"Do you really want me to answer that?" he asked, right eyebrow raised.

"No. I'd prefer it if you didn't," she answered mildly, pursing her lips.

He shrugged lazily. It was probably for the best.

"So, why did  _you_  do it?" She asked carefully, glancing down at her book. She looked shy all of a sudden.

"Me?" he asked, like he didn't understand the question.

"Yes, you were there too, if I remember correctly."

"Indeed," he stroked his chin. "Well, what can I say. It was a severe lapse in judgment," he told her, solemnly. "One that will never happen again."

"Oh, don't pretend like you didn't like it," Hermione scoffed. "It was pretty obvious that you did."

Draco narrowed his eyes at her smug tone. "Of course I fucking liked it. I had my cock buried in your cunt. What's not to like? I'm a 16 year old boy."

Hermione tutted at his use of the word  _cunt._  She hated that word.

"What? Don't care for the word ' _cunt_ '?" he asked, rolling his eyes. It was just so like her.

"It's vulgar and unnecessary."

"Well, you were wielding your  _"vulgar and unnecessary"_  like a bloody weapon of mass destruction. What do you have to say about  _that_? It was hardly my fault that things got as far as they did."

"Weapon of mass destruction?" Hermione snorted despite herself.

"Oh, it's alright to laugh now, but we're lucky that us fucking didn't cause the world to implode.  _Christ_ , but everyone could have  _died_  and it would have been all your fault!"

"Oh, don't be absurd," she chastised, rolling her eyes.

"Granger," he started, like he was about to tell her something vitally important. "You and I were never meant to bump uglies. It goes against nature. It goes against what is right and what is meant to be."

Hermione blinked at him. "Firstly, it takes two people to  _do... that,_  so I resent you placing all the blame on me. Secondly, not only are you being completely  _ridiculous,_ but you also seem to have had a minor brain dysfunction where your memory is concerned. Thirdly, you're a dick," she finished simply.

"I'm going to ignore that last part because the statement is false and derogatory. Do I look like an actual, physical penis to you? You've actually seen one now, so you can make an educated and informed decision before answering accordingly."

Hermione shook her head in disbelief. He was one to talk. The amount of disparaging remarks he had made to her in the last 10 minutes alone was incredible. "You are the epitome of derogatory, Draco Malfoy. Also, has anyone told you that you talk a lot of shit? You're making my head spin."

"And not for the first time, eh?" he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Hermione let out a long suffering groan. God, he was irritatingly on form today.

"Anyway," he waved a dismissive hand in the air. "What exactly did you mean by me having a minor brain dysfunction? And careful how you answer," he propped his chin up on his fist, giving her his full attention.

"Well," she began, feeling uncomfortable with the way he was currently staring at her. "You seem to be stuck on the notion that I instigated it all, when in actual fact it was you."

"Um, no it wasn't," he told her. "But go on."

Hermione sat back and crossed her arms. "You dragged me into a dark room and proceeded to stalk me in a threatening manner -"

"I wasn't stalking you for  _that._ That wasn't the plan at all, I was actually going to -"

"You pinned me to a desk! Then you kissed me," she insisted, cutting him off.

Yep. He had done that.  _Shit_ , but that wasn't his fault. "You wanted me to!" he argued.

"Oh really?" she asked. "How, pray tell, do you know that?"

"You were looking at me all starry-eyed -"

"Starry-eyed?" Hermione scoffed. "I was scared out of my wits, you idiot!"

"Oh, don't even. You were clinging to me like Devil's Snare!" he snapped angrily. What the fuck was she trying to say? "And you were rubbing yourself on me like a starved beast," he added, and she blushed crimson. "You weren't complaining when you were riding my hand like a -"

"Don't you dare say it," she hissed, and he snapped his mouth shut.

It was true, she had wanted it. She hadn't wanted him to stop but... "But, I didn't want to have sex with you," she said slowly. "That was never my intention."

"Oh, and you think it was mine?  _Christ_ , Granger."

There were a few moments of awkward silence.

"You enjoyed it," he eventually said, confident in his statement. "I know you did, so don't start playing the victim."

"I'm  _not_  playing the victim! You enjoyed it too," she responded, and she couldn't help but cringe at the childish comeback.

"We've already been over this," he rolled his eyes.

"Oh, you're claiming the pathetic excuse that you're a 16 year old boy. How original. Be a man and take responsibility for your actions," she scolded.

"You have no idea how hard it is to turn away when a girl is literally rubbing herself against you, it is nigh impossible," he countered.

" _Fine_. Back at you, buddy. I'm a 16 year old girl, and my hormones were just simply too much to handle. I can't be held accountable for what happened," Hermione glared at him, daring him to contradict her.

"Hormones?" Draco said, rolling the idea around his head. "Granger, that's the smartest thing you've said thus far. Hormones? Yes, perfect," he nodded, muttering to himself, and then he turned to gaze at her. "But just to be safe, may I suggest that you put a leash on that harlot pussy of yours in the future?"

Hermione gasped in outrage. "How dare you! My pussy is not a harlot."

Draco looked at her solemnly. "That's debatable."

She launched her book at his head. " _You._ You're a man-whore!" she pointed at him accusingly. "I've heard all the rumors about you. You've slept with nearly every Slytherin girl in our year and the year above, and a few Ravenclaws. And don't think I haven't heard about you and  _Parkinson._ Desperate much? You make me _sick!_ "

"I'm getting the sense that you're upset," he commented drily, rubbing the growing lump on his head where the book had bounced off it. "Why, Granger, you aren't  _jealous..._  are you?"

"Oh, you -" Hermione floundered around, trying to find the right word to call him. "PIG!" she bellowed, and then she stood up and stormed out of the library.

Draco stared after her, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

 _'Well, that went well,'_ he thought happily.  _'Not a bad Sunday after all.'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was an early update to say thanks so much to everyone who has commented, kudosed, and bookmarked my story. It really does mean everything. I hope that you enjoyed this chapter :).


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione climbed the Grand Staircase like the fiery depths of hell were licking at her heels, and didn't stop until she reached the 7th floor.

The main corridor was empty of people, living or dead, so she leaned against the nearest wall and tried to catch her breath.

She felt hurt, oppressed and above all,  _angry_. She clung to angry. Anger was good, anger was what she needed right now.

Malfoy seemed to think that this whole thing was some big joke, and maybe it was to him. He'd had the gall to sit there and mock her like she was nothing more than an insignificant nobody that he'd randomly decided to shag, purely for his own amusement. But of course he did, he was Draco Malfoy. This wasn't anything new to her. He had always been like this - an insolent sod who thought that the sun shone out of his arse. Yet, did he really have to mock her in such a disparaging way after what had happened between them? Didn't he have even a scrap of decency left?

Clearly not.

Hermione had barely thought about him over the last few weeks. She was very good at compartmentalizing the things she didn't want to deal with. Draco Malfoy being at the very top of the list of  _things_  she'd prefer not to look too closely at.

The day after the...  _unfortunate incident_  - it was best to call it what it was - hadn't been particularly great. She'd gotten no sleep the night before due to endless amounts of fretting about whether he would tell someone or not. In hindsight, it was silly, really, because he'd seemed rather adamant that he didn't want anyone to know about what had happened. At the time though, she'd thought he had only meant her friends, and had convinced herself that he was going to tell all of his cronies.

All the next morning, whilst showering and getting dressed, she had worked herself up into a tizzy, imagining Malfoy's housemates staring at her knowingly and laughing. Thankfully, that didn't end up happening. In fact, no one in Slytherin so much as glanced in her direction, except Malfoy,  _of course._  So after she had given the blond-git his wand back, and subsequently scared him out of his wits with thoughts of contamination, she'd decided to put the whole horrid thing behind her and just pretend like it'd never happened.

Sure, it wasn't the best-thought-out plan. Bottling these kinds of things up always came back to bite you in the arse, but it had been working. Until today, that is.

 _Why_  did he have to come into the bloody library? Or better yet, why didn't she just get up from the table and leave the spoilt brat to his own devises?

Perhaps because that would have been bowing to defeat and letting him get one over on her,  _again,_  and she simply couldn't bear to let that happen.

Hermione had managed to mostly ignore his taunts, even fired off a few of her own when the opportunity presented itself. She couldn't let him see that she was overly bothered by the things he was saying.  _Hell no_. That would have been detrimental to her health. He would have struck like a poisonous viper and gone straight for the jugular.

She'd stood her own and done alright, considering. That is to say,  _she had_ , right up until the last few minutes when it had all gone to complete and utter shit.

Hermione cringed as she thought back to the way she had exploded on him and stormed out of the library. God, she must have sounded so  _jealous_ , which she absolutely wasn't. Not at all. She just thought it was tasteless of him to sleep with someone else only a week after they had slept together. The fact that it was Parkinson didn't help the matter either.

_Bastard._

Imagines of him and Pansy Parkinson flashed through her mind, and she gritted her teeth together, hard, and thumped her head against the wall in frustration.

God, she was so  _confused_. She didn't know what to think or how to feel. Her emotions were all over the goddamn place.

This was not how she'd expected her first time to go and she most certainly had never thought it would be with someone  _like_  Draco Malfoy, never mind the  _actual_  Draco Malfoy. It's not like she had thought about her first time all that much, in fact, if she were being honest, she had hardly ever thought about it. She had just assumed that it'd be with someone who she liked and whom liked her back. Didn't everyone assume that in regards to their first time?

At least she didn't love him, that was a plus. It could have been so much worse. The fact that she disliked him was a good thing. She would get over this easily.

So what? She'd slept with an arsehole,  _big deal._  She wasn't the first girl in history and she certainly wouldn't be the last. She didn't really care that it had been her first time. That didn't really bother her, she'd never had grand notions of the  _"perfect"_  first time with the  _"perfect"_  person, so it was irrelevant to her situation.

Hermione just wished that he would have had a bit of tact and reined in the ridicule, at least for a little while. It was almost sickening how insensitive he was.

Why couldn't he have just stayed away? Blessedly, he'd kept a distance from her for the last few weeks but then suddenly, out of nowhere, had decided to come and bothered her today.  _On a Sunday._  The day of rest and relaxation. It was like he got off on making her life miserable or something.

Hemione pushed away from the wall and started towards the Gryffindor Tower, she wouldn't think on this anyone. He wasn't worth it. He didn't deserve this kind of attention, even if it was only in her head. He was a prick, plain and simple.

_... If only it were that simple._

* * *

The next morning Hermione headed down to breakfast. She'd had an interesting night's sleep. She'd been plagued with dreams of Malfoy,  _specifically_  of that night. She woke up at 5.00 am, dripping with sweat, body tingling with echoes of pleasure. It scared her how real the dream had seemed. It was like she was there again, in that classroom.

Hermione shook her head and attempted to rid herself of the memory, and found Harry and Ron huddled together at the Gryffindor table, deep in conversation.

"Morning," she said, announcing her arrival.

"Morning," they chorused.

"What are you two talking about?" she asked, slipping into the seat opposite them.

"Malfoy," Harry answered, turning to look at her.

Instead of gently gripping the handle on the jug of pumpkin juice, Hermione punched it across the table, dousing several 2nd years in the process. "Oh,  _God_!" she shrieked. "I'm so sorry. Here, let me," she pointed her wand at them, and in a matter of seconds they were clean, dry, and sticky-free. "Sorry," she offered again as they sat staring at her in shock. She turned back to Harry and Ron.

"Are you OK, 'Mione?" Ron asked, tilting his head to the side and squinting at her.

"Yes, of course I'm alright," she answered edgily. "Why would you ask?"

"Well," Ron began mildly. "You just nearly drowned a couple of 2nd years in pumpkin juice," he gazed at her like that was more than a sufficient reason to ask.

Hermione glanced at the 2nd years again. They were still staring at her. "They're  _fine_ ," she said, waving him off. "Now, what were you saying, Harry?"

Was it just her or was Harry looking at her funnily?  _Shit_ , this was not the time to get paranoid and freak out. She schooled her features as best she could and reached for a piece of buttered toast.

"We were just talking about Malfoy," Harry said, leaning in closer so that they wouldn't be overheard.

"Oh? What about him?" Hermione asked casually.

Her eyes flicked over to the Slytherin table, instantly catching the man in question staring at her. She cleared her throat, scowled at him, and then looked away.

"I was just saying how he hasn't been doing anything suspicious lately, it's weird," Harry narrowed his eyes as if in deep thought. "I've been watching the map, and he hasn't so much as set foot near the Room of Requirement," he looked up at Hermione expectantly.

She raised her brows at him. Why the hell was he looking at her like that? Like she knew something he didn't. "What?" she asked a little defensively.

"Well, don't you think that's weird?" he asked, sounding thoroughly exasperated.

"Oh, yeah. Weird," Hermione readily agreed.

She released a slow and steady breath. ' _Settle down, Hermione, he doesn't know anything. How could he? He would have said something to you by now. It happened two weeks ago! But what if he's been waiting for you to say something? Maybe confess? No, that's ludicrous. Waiting is something Harry's **terrible**  at.'_

"He was going there every day -" Harry continued, totally unaware of Hermione's internal monologue, "- pretty much spending all of his spare time in that room full of junk, and now...  _nothing_ ," he held his hands out to encompass the load of nothingness. "He's not been back to that room in two weeks or so, not since that night you were following him under the cloak."

Hermione promptly choked on a piece of toast. Good grief, but Harry was _– unwittingly -_ getting too close for comfort.

"Are you sure you didn't see anything strange that night?" Harry asked, ignoring her spluttering as she tried to dislodge the piece of toast from her trachea. "Did you see him do anything untoward or questionable?"

Lord,  _yes_ , she'd seen him do numerous untoward and questionable things. Things that she had been fully involved in, and most definitely a part of.

"No," Hermione said slowly, like she was thinking long and hard about it. "No, I didn't see anything."  _Liar, liar, pants on fire._ God, she felt like shit, she was a horrible person and a terrible friend. "Like I said, he left the Room of Requirement and went straight down to the dungeons."

It literally killed her that she was lying for Draco Malfoy of all people, but it wasn't like she could tell the truth. She would be throwing herself under the bus, too. Also, Harry and Ron would probably die of shock if they knew what really happened, and she really didn't want that. She quite liked having them around.

Harry sighed explosively. "I wonder why he's suddenly stopped going, then? He's acting differently, too. Have you noticed? He's started hanging out with his friends again, and he's always here at meal times -" he glanced over his shoulder at the Slytherine table, his eyes seeking out Malfoy. "See," he said, once he'd located him. "There he is. Before two weeks ago, he hadn't so much as stepped foot in the Great Hall. I still think he's up to something, maybe he caught on that we were following him. We all need to stay alert and keep a close eye on him."

Hermione had to fight down the urge to roll her eyes. Couldn't he drop this Malfoy obsession already?

Harry turned and stared at her intently. It was creepy when he did this. It was like he was looking into her soul and sifting through her deepest, darkest secrets. He would make a fantastic Auror one day. "What did he say to you yesterday?"

Hermione almost swallowed her tongue. "What?" she asked, heart thudding wildly in her chest.

"Yesterday, in the library?" Harry prompted, frowning at her slightly. "I was browsing the map, and I saw him sit down at your table."

 _'Browsing the map_ ,  _my arse!'_  She thought spitefully _._  What he really meant was that he was stalking Draco Malfoy's every move.

"Oh, yes. The library," Hermione chuckled as if just remembering. "It was  _nothing_ , he was just being, well, Malfoy," she said, waving her hand dismissively, like that explained everything.

"He was sat there for a while," Harry continued, clearly not ready to drop it. "What did he say to you? I was about to come and find you, but then you left."

Ron, who had been engrossed in devouring his breakfast, looked up to stare at her. "Was he harassing you?" he asked angrily, mouth full of sausage. "'Cause if he was, I'll kill him."

Hermione couldn't help but smile a little at that. "No more than usual, I assure you," she patted Ron's hand affectionately. "Actually," she paused, desperately trying to think of an excuse as to why he was sat with her for so long. "Professor Babbling assigned us to work together on a project for Ancient Runes," she sighed, looking thoroughly put-out by the prospect. "I wasn't going to say anything to either of you because I'm actually going to see if I can switch partners."

Harry and Ron both instantly relaxed at hearing this, and began offering their sincere commiserations.

"That  _sucks_ ," Ron shook his head like it was the single most heinous thing in the entire world that could ever happen to someone.

"Yep," Hermione agreed, feeling guilty for lying -  _again_.

"Do you think you'll be able to change partners?" Ron asked.

She shrugged vaguely. "I'm sure it'll be no problem."

"No," Harry said suddenly, eyes lighting up. "You should stay partnered with him."

" _What?_ " Hissed Hermione and Ron at the same time.

_Oh no._

"Yes," Harry, enthused. "This is actually a blessing in disguise."

"Merlin, Harry," Ron uttered, aghast. "Nothing is a blessing where that pointy git's concerned."

"No, I know that," Harry flapped his hands impatiently. "What I mean is, if Hermione stayed partnered with him, she could keep a close eye on the prat and try to siphon bits of information from him. He's bound to slip up at some point. You could do that, couldn't you, Hermione?" he asked excitedly.

_Shit._

"Um," Hermione said, looking like a deer caught in headlights. "I'm not sure how often we'll actually be required to work together outside of class," she answered, fumbling her words.

Harry gave her a look like she was mad. "But it's a partnered project, of course you'll have to study together outside of class."

"Oh, well, yes. I guess you're right."

Shit, shit,  _shit_. This was backfiring exponentially. This is why you should never lie.

"This is great," Harry clapped his hands together.

"Yes, brilliant," Hermione forced a smile.

Ron didn't look happy about it at all.

"The number one thing you must get proof of, Hermione, is that he's a Death Eater," Harry insisted. "It's really important. Try to get a proper look at his mark if you can -"

"Harry," she cut him off, sounding tired. "How many times have we been over this? Malfoy is not a Death Eater. He's an arsehole, certainly. Up to something,  _possibly,_  but I very much doubt it's anything nefarious."

"How can you even say that?" Harry protested, glaring at her. "And what the hell makes you so sure?"

"What makes  _you_  so sure?" she fired back, irritated.

_This was getting ridiculous._

"He is a Death Eater, Hermione.  _I know it_. I can't explain how I know, but I just do."

Perfect, so they were all just supposed to hinge everything on Harry's " _instincts"_.

Hermione looked at Ron for some help, but he just quickly looked away and carried on eating.  _Git._

"He's planning something for the dark side. I can  _feel_  it," Harry urged, looking a little crazy.

"What on earth do you think he's planning?" Hermione asked, thoroughly exasperated.

"Well, I don't know yet, do I? That's what we need to find out," he told her. "But first we need to confirm that he's a Death Eater."

Hermione let out a long suffering groan.

Harry angrily gritted his teeth together, and she watched as a muscle jumped in his jaw. He looked mad. "Look," he started, sounding surprisingly calm. "All I'm asking is that you try and look for a Dark Mark. If he hasn't got one, then fine. But if he has, then we need to stop him before he does something terrible -"

"How, pray tell, do you suppose I do that? Should I ask him to strip for me?" she asked, incensed, and then blushed, realizing what she'd said.

Harry opened his mouth to retort, but she cut him off.

"Oh, never mind!" she shook her head. She didn't have the energy to argue with him any further. "Fine, I'll see what I can do," she acquiesced.

She could tell that he was pissed off with her, and she felt bad about it, but she was really sick of hearing the whole 'Malfoy is a Death Eater' thing. It was getting out of hand, and Harry was becoming worryingly obsessive. It wasn't good for him, and she didn't want to encourage this kind of behavior.

 _But what if Malfoy **was**  a Death Eater?_ A little a voice inside her mind whispered. _You fucked him. If Harry found out, he would never forgive you._

Hermione swallowed thickly and pushed her half-eaten toast away from her. She glanced at the Slytherin table again and watched Malfoy laughing heartily at something someone had said. He glanced up, as if sensing her staring at him, and their eyes met.

God, how was she going to tell him that they had to pretend to be study partners? Would he even go along with it? Or would he tell her to fuck off?

There was only one way to find out.

* * *

" _Psst_ , Malfoy?" Hermione called quietly.

Malfoy turned, glancing around the empty corridor with a deep frown.

"In here," she hissed, rolling her eyes. Couldn't he see her waving her hand up and down like a loon?

Malfoy spotted an arm flapping around through a small gap in the door just off to the right of where he stood. "Granger?" he said uncertainly. "Is that you?

" _Yes_ ," she groaned, failing to hide her impatience. "Will you hurry up and come here."

Malfoy's eyebrows briefly lifted in surprise. He glanced up and down the corridor, surreptitiously, and then headed over to her.

When he was close enough, Hermione grabbed a fistful of his jumper and yanked him inside, slamming and locking the door behind them.

"Excuse me, do you mind?" Malfoy asked, irritation clear in his tone. "What do you want?" he demanded, smoothing his hands down the front of his jumper.

Hermione began to pace in front of him, wringing her hands fretfully. She wasn't sure why she was so nervous. It was probably because she already knew that Malfoy was going to be a difficult sod about it all.

Malfoy's silver eyes tracked her nervous movements, judging her harshly. "You better have a good reason for dragging me into this filthy hole, what even is this place?" he wrinkled his nose and gazed around.

"It's a room that Filch uses to keep cleaning supplies in," she answered distractedly.

Malfoy's entire face scrunched up in disgust. "Why, may I ask, have you brought me in here? You don't have some weird sexual cleaning fetish do you?"

"Ew,  _no_. What is it with you thinking I have weird kinks and fetishes?" she asked, shaking her head in revulsion.

"You just seem the type," he shrugged, looking bored now. "Come now, Granger, why am I here?"

Hermione scowled at him. "If you bloody shut up a minute, I will tell you!"

He sneered at her but didn't say anything more.

God, she didn't know how to begin. "I've got some bad news..." she said, trailing off as she deliberated on how to continue. She needed to do it in a way in which his  _lordship_  would be cooperative.

"Oh god," Malfoy suddenly muttered, turning a sickly grey colour. " _NO_. Don't say it," he warned, leaning against the wall for support.

Hermione looked up and frowned at him, thoroughly confused. "Don't say what?"

"Oh  _shit_!" Malfoy gripped his hair and stared at her in shock. "You're pregnant, aren't you? Oh god. Kill me now, just do it. Come on, right now.  _Kill me_. Quickly!"

Hermione scoffed. " _What?_ No! Don't be absurd," she exclaimed.

Malfoy gazed at her, face panic-stricken. "No? No, as in you're not pregnant? Are you sure?" he asked on the verge of a mental breakdown.

"Of course I'm bloody sure! That's the most stupid thing I've ever heard in my entire life."

Malfoy visibly relaxed, groaning deeply in utter relief. "Oh, thank  _God!_ " he enthused. "Fucking hell, Granger, maybe fucking lead with that next time," he said, glaring at her.

"Lead with it?" she asked, perplexed. "It was never even an issue, so why would I? I'm not an  _idiot._  I've been taking the pill for over a year now, plus I track my cycles and I wasn't anywhere near ovulation so...  _oh never mind_."

It was pointless. He probably had no idea what she was taking about.

" _The pill?"_ he exclaimed, focusing on that and choosing to ignore everything else she'd said. "What on earth is that?! And don't say it's some muggle concoction because I will strangle you. Besides, how was I supposed to know that it was never an issue?" he yelled at her. "You drag me in here, pacing up and down like a lunatic, and then tell me you've got some bad news! What the hell am I supposed to think?"

_When he put it like that..._

"What you should have said is, 'I'm not pregnant,  ** _but_**  I have some other bad news'," Malfoy continued, waving his hands at her angrily. "That would have been nice, considerate even, and could have saved me from a near aneurysm!"

"OK, OK, I get it," Hermione said, holding her hands up in surrender. "I apologize. Now, calm down for God's sake."

"Is there any point in me calming down? God knows what the bad news really is," he shot back. "Come on, out with it," he snapped testily.

Hermione took a deep breath. "Harry's on to us," she said, not beating around the bush this time. "Or at least he's on to you. Maybe me too? It's hard to tell. He's looking at me all funny and keeps bringing up that night that we... Oh, I don't know what's going through that mind of his but he's getting too close for comfort," she rambled unintelligibly, flapping her hands around in an anxious manner. "But anyway, I've told him that we are partners on a project in Ancient Runes, so now we have to pretend to study together for a couple of nights a week, and -"

"Wait, what?" Malfoy said, cutting her off, looking thoroughly confused. "Granger, I have no idea what the bloody hell you've just said. For fucks sake, start from the beginning and, if it's not asking too much, try to make some semblance of sense."

Hermione nodded and then proceeded to tell him everything that had been said at breakfast that morning, except for the part where Harry thought Malfoy was a Death Eater. And the part where Harry asked her to keep an eye on Malfoy and attempt to siphon incriminating information from him.

Once she'd finished, Malfoy let out a disgusted puff of air. "So he has a map? That's how he seems to just show up everywhere and always appears to know precisely where I am."

In hindsight, it probably wasn't the best idea to tell Malfoy about the map, but it was too late now.

"That specky little bastard," he gritted.

"Hey! Don't call him that," Hermione growled, incensed.

Malfoy ignored her. "What, exactly, does he think I'm up to?" he asked curiously, not really expecting her to answer.

She shrugged. "He doesn't know. He just knows that you're up to something."

Hermione watched him process this bit of information, he looked relieved, and it gave her pause. Perhaps Harry was onto something after all. She wanted to ask him what it was that he was up to, but she knew that he'd just get all defensive and probably leave, so she refrained from saying anything.  _For now_.

"Why didn't you just say I was asking you about an essay or something?" he asked. "You didn't have to tell him we were working on a project together."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. "I was put on the spot, it was the first thing that came to my mind. Why don't you try being interrogated by Harry. It's frightening," she shuddered. Malfoy did have a point though, him questioning her on an essay would have been a lot easier to roll with. Alas, it didn't matter now.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Whatever, can't you just say that the project's completed now?" he looked at her, his tone low and skeptical. "Why carry on the charade?"

Hermione's heart skipped a beat. From Malfoy's point of view, that obviously seemed like the next logical step to take, except Harry now wanted her to spy on him, so she couldn't just say the project was over. Harry would get even more suspicious than he already was. But she couldn't say all this to Malfoy because he didn't know about the spying part.

God, what a tangled web of lies she had gotten herself caught up in.

"I can't," she said simply and prayed - to every deity she could think of - that he'd just drop it.

Did pigs fly? Maybe, they lived in a world full of magic, but in the muggle world they most certainly did not.

"Why?" Malfoy frowned. Hermione let out a long suffering sigh and began grasping at straws in her mind. Why indeed? "Oh wait, I get it," he said slowly, knowingly, before she could come up with a plausible lie.

"You do?" she asked, looking at him warily.

"You're just making all this up because you want me to shag you again."

 _What?! Good lord_. "No.  _No!_ " she yelled and stomped her feet in frustration.

"What makes you think I would shag you again, Granger?" he asked, disregarding her little hissy fit.

"That's not what I -"

"I mean, I understand you trying and all, why wouldn't you? _-"_

Hermione scoffed. "You are unbelievable -"

"- it's only natural -"

"- I've never met someone so -"

"- I'm sure you've been obsessively fantasizing about that night for the last few weeks -"

" _Please_ , as if! You are -"

"- and I bet you've flicked the bean more than once," he bit his bottom lip, trying hard not to laugh.

"How  _dare_  you," she gasped, blushing profusely.

"There's no need to be embarrassed, it's fine. I get it. It makes sense that you'd want me to fuck you again, and let me tell you, Granger, it's  _so_  much better the second time round," he smirked at the look on her face.

"I hate your guts," she told him, scowling.

_Jesus Christ._

"So let me get this straight," he held his hand up to silence her, and she glared at him. "Your idea is to put studying up as a front so that when Potter,  _the nosy git_ , looks on his map and sees us together, he won't think anything of it?"

Hermione gaped at him. How on earth had he gotten to that conclusion? Surely his giant head had something to do with it. What a conceited, narcissistic pig.

"That's very clever, Granger," he praised, looking mildly impressed. "Perhaps you're smarter than I thought."

She stared at him. For once in her life she had absolutely no idea what to say.

Malfoy looked her up and down appraisingly. "Fine," he said after several moments.

Hermione blinked at him. "Fine, what?" she asked, mystified.

"Fine, I'll shag you," Malfoy said, like it should have been obvious.

Her mouth dropped open.

"Unless you've changed your mind, of course? In which case, you can just tell Potter that the project is over and things can go back to the way they were," he smiled at her serenely. "So, what will it be, Granger?"

Hermione's mind went straight to Harry. What choice did she have?

_Fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Black_Osmosis for beta reading this chapter. You rock :D.


	4. Chapter 4

Draco gazed down at her, mildly amused, to find several different emotions battle it out on her face. There was shock, anger, panic, and then something that looked an awful lot like reluctant acceptance.

Draco couldn't help but grin. "Come on, Granger, I don't have all bloody night," he said almost jovially.

Hermione glared at him. "I... Well, I think -" she began.

"Sssh," Draco slapped a hand over her mouth, none too gently, and stared at the closed door.

He could have sworn that he just heard...  _Yes_  - there it was again - a distinct meow.

Hermione, who had been beating his arm in an attempt to get herself free, suddenly stilled and stared at Draco with wide frightened eyes.

 _Shit_. She'd heard it too, so he wasn't imagining it.  _Fuck_. That could only mean one thing...

The door to the storeroom was suddenly flung open, and both Draco and Hermione jumped back in alarm.

"Well, well, well," Filch sneered, showing his rotten teeth. "What do we have here then?"

Draco gagged loudly as the old caretaker's breath reached his nose. Jesus Christ, but it was  _putrid_.

Hermione whacked him in the stomach and shot him a stern look, clearly conveying that if he didn't behave himself, there would be hell to pay. "Mr. Filch," she began solemnly.

"Save it,  _girl_ , you won't be able to talk your way out of this one. Not only is it past curfew, but I just caught you two doing the nasty in my storeroom," he looked delighted by this.

Hermione gasped, thoroughly shocked. "Mr. Filch, I don't know what you think you saw, but I can assure you that there was no  _nasty_  business -  _of any sort_  - going on in here."

Draco couldn't help it, he snorted.

Both Hermione and Filch gave him equal narrow-eyed looks.

"Have you got something to add,  _boy_?" Filch asked, left eye twitching ominously.

Draco cleared his throat. "Well -" he began, obviously about to say something irrevocably damaging, as was his nature. Hermione, sensing this, pinched the skin on his arm and twisted. "Ow!" he screeched. "What was that for?!" he snarled. "Bloody Devil woman!"

Hermione smiled at Filch serenely. "He doesn't have anything else to add."

Filch stared at them both, evidently thinking they were a bit mental, which was saying something, because he was basically bat-shit crazy himself. "Well, follow me then. I'm sure Professor McGonagall will be very interested in hearing about this," he chuckled lowly, turning and walking away, clearly expecting them to follow.

Hermione looked at Draco, sheer panic written all over her face. "What shall we do?" she mouthed.

Draco scowled. "I don't know," he mouthed back, irritated. He rubbed his arm vigorously. It was still stinging.

Mrs. Norris hissed at them, causing them both to flinch. They exited the storeroom, giving the mangled old thing a wide berth and quickly caught up to Filch.

Hermione fretfully pulled on the sleeve of Draco's jumper. "We need to do something," she hissed.

Draco smacked her hand away, throwing her an impatient look. What the fuck did she expect him to do? "Get off me," he snapped when she grabbed at his arm again.

Fuck. This was just what he needed right now. How the hell were they going to get out of this?

Draco scanned his mind, grasping at everything and anything, until finally he had an idea. Without a moment's pause he pulled his wand out of his pocket, pointed it directly at the back of Filch's head and said: "Obliviate."

Just as the last syllable left Draco's mouth, Hermione gasped loudly. So loudly, in fact, that it sounded like she was about to keel over and die. Christ, but Draco wished that she would.

"Malfoy!" she yelled. "What the hell did you just do?!"

"Ssh," he hissed frantically. "Fucking hell, Granger, do you want to wake the whole bloody castle up and alert them to what we've done?"

"What  _we've_  done?" she asked, disbelief coloring her tone. " _You_  did this.  _I_  didn't do anything."

"You wanted me to do something, so I did," they both glanced at Filch, who was staring off into space and smacking his lips together like a fish out of water.

"I didn't say  _Obliviate_  the poor guy," she argued, gesturing wildly to the caretaker.

"Well, I didn't see you coming up with any bright ideas," Draco retorted. "Unless you call having a full-blow panic attack helpful. Which, let me inform you for future reference,  _it isn't._  There was nothing else we could have done. Did you really want to explain to McGonagall why we were shut away in Filch's storeroom after curfew?"

Hermione glanced at Filch again and groaned.

Of course she bloody didn't.

"God, what a mess," she whined. "If anyone finds out about this, we will be expelled for sure."

"Oh, stop being so dramatic," Draco scoffed. "Who's going to find out? As long as you keep your trap shut, it will all be fine."

Hermione shook her head at him. "It worries me how blasé you are about this."

"He's a squib," he said this like it explained everything. "Why should I worry?"

"He's a  _person_ , you despicable bastard," Hermione spat.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Fine, what about the fact that he's a complete and utter arsehole, then? Does that make you feel better about it?"

"You are unbelievable!"

"No, you are!" he snapped. "I've just saved both our arses, and all you can do is lecture me on it. I only erased the last 5 minutes of his memory, it's hardly going to cause any damage. You need to calm the fuck down. He will be back to normal in a minute or so."

Feeling irked, Draco watched as Hermione crossed her arms and looked away from him.  _Stubborn cow_. He was about to tell her to pull that ginormous stick out of her backside, when Filch suddenly began coughing.

"He's coming round," Draco said, glancing at the old coot warily. "We better go."

"I'm going to bed," Hermione announced, daring him to contradict her.

Draco smirked. "Good for you, what are you telling me for? You don't want me to come and tuck you in, do you?" He wanted to ask her what she'd decided on in regards to their  _"study"_  sessions, but thought better of it.

She gritted her teeth together. "You are the most irritating person that I've ever met in my entire life."

"Ditto, sweetheart," he smiled sardonically, then turned away from her and headed towards the Grand Staircase.

* * *

The whole walk back to his dormitory Draco fantasized about crawling into bed and falling straight to sleep, but now that he was here, he was wide awake.  _Figures_.

He couldn't stop thinking about his conversation with Granger, the one where she had basically propositioned him for sex.

Oh, don't worry, he was fully aware that Granger hadn't  _really_  been propositioning him for sex. No. Actually, he was quite certain that sex was the furthest thing from her mind. Of course, she didn't need to know that he knew this. Where was the fun in that?

He wasn't really sure what all her blabbering had been about, but if he had to take a wild guess, he'd bet his left bollock that Potter had something to do with it -  _the interfering sod_. He'd probably asked Granger to spy on him or something.

God, it was so obvious that it had made him want to shake her. He'd almost told her to sit down before she passed out trying to think up a believable lie to tell him, but then an idea had blossomed.

Why not just pretend to go along with it? The fact that he'd needed to give her a helping hand along the way - because she really was the worst liar he'd ever come across - was beside the point. If he'd left her to it, she would have fucked it all up, and then Draco would've had to ridicule her on how much of terrible liar she was. She was definitely no Slytherin, that's for sure. The thought pleased Draco greatly. How on earth did Gryffindors get by in life?... But  _really_ , did she honestly think that she could pull one over on him? The idea was preposterous.

As long as he was careful, he could have endless amounts of fun with this. As the saying goes, keep your friends close and your enemies closer, and he couldn't get much closer than sticking his cock inside Granger's tight pussy. The fact that he might actually get a couple of shags out of all this was just an added bonus. Yes, she wasn't the most ideal candidate for the cause - the cause being his next orgasm - but he'd already fucked her once, so why not do it again? The damage was already done, may as well make the most of it.

Plus, there was the small fact that she hadn't actually been all that bad, loathed as he was to admit it... She had been pretty great, actually.

He shook his head harshly.

Besides, it would be so satisfyingly good to watch all her morals and resolve crumble under the weighty temptation of sex, because they would.  _Oh yes_ , Draco would make sure of it.

Well, he  _would_  if she still wanted to go along with their fake study sessions. Surely she wouldn't want to let her precious Potter down? He chuckled at the thought. highly unlikely.

With that settled in his mind, Draco jumped up out of bed and headed to the showers. Sleep was as elusive as ever, so perhaps a steaming hot shower would help. Add to that a quick wank, and he'd be fast asleep in no time.

* * *

The next day, Draco was strolling down the corridor, wondering when Granger would approach him about their  _study_  sessions, when he felt something hit him on the back of the head.

He stopped dead in his tracks and turned around slowly. There were several students loitering outside various classrooms, all in 5th year or lower, which, quite frankly, didn't add up. He was about to start demanding answers when he noticed Potter and Weasley a little way down, leaning against the wall, seemingly deep in conversation.

Draco growled under his breath and marched over to them. "You know, Potter, if you have something to say to me, then just say it. No need to take cheap shots when my back is turned."

Both Gryffindors stopped talking and turned to glare at him.

"But I thought you liked cheap shots," Potter answered, eyebrow raised. "You've dished enough of them out yourself over the years."

Weasley snorted.

Draco zeroed in on the ghastly ginger anomaly. "I think you're getting me mixed up with Weasel-bee here," he said, eyeing the redhead with a mild look of disgust. "You like cheap shots, don't you, Weasel?" he asked with a slight lilt to his voice.

Ron frowned deeply and glanced at Harry.

Draco tutted, looking apologetic. "Sorry, I must be getting myself confused with someone else. It's cheap  _clothes_  that you like, right?" he ran his sharp silver eyes up and down the Gryffindor's tattered robes that were slightly faded and a little too short. "And cheap shoes," he continued, eyes landing on Weasley's inexpensive school shoes, which had clearly seen better days. "Oh and let's not forget cheap whores, you are messing around with Lavender Brown now, are you not?"

Weasley let out a vicious snarl and charged at Draco with the force of a raging bull.

Draco smirked and stepped neatly to one side, watching gleefully as the lanky oaf nearly fell arse over tit.

"You bastard," Potter growled. "Who the fuck do you think you are?!"

Draco clasped a hand to his chest, looking taken aback. "I'm sorry, did I say something wrong?" he asked. "Oh," he tapped his forehead lightly, feigning forgetfulness, "that's right, silly me, he doesn't  _like_  cheap things. It's just that he's poor and can't afford to buy anything half-decent. My bad."

Potter whipped his wand out of his pocket and pointed it directly at Draco's throat. "You say another word, Malfoy, and I will end you," he gritted. "Do you understand?"

"Go right ahead," Draco smirked. "Not even you,  _chosen one_ , would be able to rationalize the reason you maimed a fellow student."

"How about the fact that he's a Death Eater?" Potter spat. "Surely that would be reason enough."

Draco stared at him, face expressionless. "Death Eater?" he asked casually. "Now where would you get a silly notion like that from? Wait, don't tell me. You pulled it out of your arse, didn't you?" he sighed, like he wasn't surprised. "When are you going to learn that the only thing that comes out of that particular orifice is pure shit?"

"Fuck off, Malfoy. I know you're a Death Eater. It's only a matter of time before -"

"Harry," came an unmistakably sharp tone.

"Granger," Draco said pleasantly. "Nice of you to join us. I was just thinking that there was something missing, and now that you're here, I know that it's that horror show you call hair. It really is a focal point. I must admit though, it looks utterly frightful today. What on earth has happened? You look as though you've been struck by lightning."

"You take that back!" Weasley bellowed, squaring up to him.

"What?" Draco shrugged. "It's true! Christ, but you're all overly sensitive today. Is it that time of the month or something? It would definitely explain a lot - like Potter's ridiculous paranoia."

Weasley's arm flashed out and he gripped Draco by the throat.

"Ron, stop!" Hermione attempted to pull the redhead away, worry clearly etched on her face. "He's not worth it. Let go!"

Once released, Draco coughed dramatically and rubbed his throat. "You filthy destitute," he spat. "Don't touch what you can't afford!"

"Are you implying that you're a prostitute, Malfoy?" Hermione asked snidely, pushing Weasley behind her. "I never knew. Trust me, Ron doesn't swing that way."

Potter and Weasley snickered.

Draco growled. "Oh, and how would you know? Don't tell me you, too, are shagging him, as well as Brown."

Hermione's face went a peculiar puce color, and he stared at her incredulously.

 _Jesus fucking Christ,_  she wasn't, was she? The thought made him grit his teeth to hold back a snarl.

"No, don't be stupid," she spat.

This slightly mollified him, and he took a deep calming breath. "I was implying that he wouldn't be able to afford the lawyer fees when I sue him for assault."

Hermione scoffed. "Oh please, we're not even of age yet. There will be no suing of any sort."

Draco huffed out a humorless laugh. "By all means, try me. I dare you. I'll have the tosser's whole family homeless in just a few short weeks."

Ron growled, but didn't make a move to attack him again.

Hermione glared at him, jaw tight, eyes narrowed.

He stared at her, long and hard. God, but the way she was looking at him, all stony-faced, made him want to grab her face and kiss her deeply until she was soft and pliant beneath his lips.

_Shit. Where the fuck had that come from?_

"Grow up, Malfoy," Hermione told him. "You sound like a spoilt brat. Come on, Harry, Ron," she gripped both of their forearms, mumbling softly to them, as she steered them away.

Draco felt irrationally irritated at seeing this. He couldn't say why exactly, but it annoyed him that she was fussing over them in such a way. "Granger," he called out.

All three turned around to look at him. Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum looked ready to pounce if he so much as said one word out of line. Granger, on the other hand, looked strangely apprehensive.

"Are we meeting up later?" he asked her rather directly.

"What?" she rasped, face flaming. She looked as though she suddenly couldn't breathe.

Despite himself, Draco couldn't help but smirk at her reaction. "In the library," he prompted. "You know, for our Ancient Runes project."

"Oh," Hermione said, looking weirdly taken aback and relieved at the same time. "Umm, I'm not sure we -" Potter elbowed her lightly and gave her a meaningful look. She sagged slightly. "Fine," she agreed, looking rather put-out. "6.30pm, don't be late."

Was she just about to turn him down? He gave her a single sharp nod and shot disgusted looks at both Potter and Weasley before turning around and heading to class.

* * *

Salazar's soul, had he lost his goddamn mind? Why had he asked her if they were meeting up later?! Christ, but she had almost turned him down -  _for fuck's sake_  - right in front of Potter and Weasley. Not to mention that it was simply abhorrent that he had scar-head to thank for her agreeing to meet with him. The only reason Potter had encouraged her in the first place was because he wanted her to spy on him. Of course, she had only agreed so as not to let her precious  _chosen one_ down.

He wasn't even sure why he cared. So what if she had turned him down? Yes, it would have been a bit of a blow because Draco hated to be dismissed in any form,  _by anyone_ , no matter the circumstance, but he would've gotten over it.

It just annoyed him that this whole thing had actually been her bloody idea, but he'd ended up being the one asking if they were meeting up. How the bloody hell had that happened?  _She_  was supposed to be the one doing the asking.  _She_  was supposed to be the one doing the chasing. It was supposed to be  _him_  doing  _her_  a favor, and getting sex out of it to boot.

It was ridiculous. This was supposed to be a joke, a bit of fun. He had said those things last night just to wind her up, and he'd indulged in the ludicrousness of it all - purely to see her squirm in discomfort.

So, why on earth was he agonizing over it?

* * *

Draco entered the library at 6.30 sharp and headed straight over to his favorite table, knowing that was exactly where he would find Granger. He was pleased to discover that his assumption was right.

"Evening, Granger," he greeted. "I think we can officially call this  _our_  table now, don't you?"

Hermione wrinkled her nose at the insinuation.

"So," Draco said, clapping his hands together before sitting down. "What do you have planned for us? Are we studying? Or are we  _studying?_ " he winked suggestively.

Hermione's jaw tightened. "Let me make something abundantly clear, Malfoy," she began. "I don't like you. I think you're a stuck up, egotistical worm with no redeeming qualities whatsoever."

Draco blinked at her. "This sounds strangely familiar," he said. "Am I experiencing Déjà vu or are you repeating something you've told me numerous times already? I'm not Weasley, you don't need to keep repeating yourself to make words stick."

"Leave Ron out of this," she smacked her hand on the table.

Draco rolled his eyes.  _Why was she so protective of that tosser? It was annoying._

They were silent for several moments.

"Why did you ask me to meet you?" she asked, picking at her fingernail.

Of course she would ask the one thing that Draco had been asking himself all afternoon, and still didn't know the answer to. "I thought that's what you wanted," he said, turning it back on her. "Remember... Last night? Filch's storeroom? Surely you haven't forgotten already."

"No. How could I?" she said, sighing and rubbing her hands over her face. "Have you seen Filch today?" she asked, sounding a little worried.

Draco groaned.  _Unbelievable_. Trust her to still be worried about the squib. "Yes, he's absolutely fine. He's hobbling around like usual and gassing everyone out with his breath."

Hermione tutted. "Do you have to be so mean?"

"Shit, Granger, but you have to admit that his breath is absolutely rancid."

"It is," she conceded reluctantly. "But you don't need to comment on it. It's rude."

Draco gave her a long-suffering look but refused to respond on the matter any further. They would be there all bloody night otherwise.

Hermione stared at him, looking as if she was deliberating on what to say next.

Draco waited patiently for what felt like several minutes before finally losing his cool. "Christ, Granger, what's wrong with you?" he asked. "If you think any harder your head might explode."

"I've made up my mind," she blurted.

"About what?" he asked, like he didn't have a clue what she was talking about. Even though he kind of did.

"About pretending to study together."

"OK," he said slowly, giving her a look to continue.

"I'm telling Harry that the project is over," she told him, matter-of-factly.

"You're what?" Draco asked, a little too sharply. He'd be lying if he said that he wasn't surprised, he was pretty fucking gobsmacked to be honest. He'd been sure she wouldn't even consider letting Potter down.

"I'm telling Harry that the project is over," she repeated, her usual no-nonsense tone firmly in place. "I've changed my mind -"

"About  _studying_?" he cut in, tilting his head down and looking up at her through his eyelashes.

" _Yes_ ," she snapped, irritated. "And that's one of the reasons why I've changed my mind. Do you have to say 'studying' like that?"

"Like what?" he frowned.

"All  _suggestive,_ " she hissed.

"Well, we weren't really going to study, were we?" he scoffed. "You were using studying as a front to take advantage of me."

Hermione spluttered in indignation. "I was doing no such thing! You made that assumption all by yourself."

"Then,  _pray tell_ , what the fuck were you doing, Granger?" he asked, eyebrows raised. "What was all that about last night?" Draco hoped she would slip up.

_Come on, Granger, tell me all about Potter and his plans for spying on me._

"It doesn't matter. All that matters is that it's not happening anymore," she crossed her arms, looking as defiant as ever.

_Bitch._

"You... But...  _You_..." he fumed, stuttering uncharacteristically. "You went to all that trouble of lying -"

"It doesn't matter," she cut him off, and Draco wanted to strangle her. "I had a severe lapse in judgement. It won't happen again," she spat back the same words he threw at her during their last encounter at this very table

Draco was livid. How bloody dare she just brush him to one side like this! He was so fucking angry he could punch something. He wasn't angry at her though,  _not really_ , he was more angry with himself for even feeling this way. It didn't make any sense. For the umpteenth time that afternoon, he asked himself.  _Why do you care? It doesn't matter. It's just Granger._

"Why do you look so angry?" she asked quietly, looking more than a little confused. "I thought you'd be glad, you didn't seem particularly fond of the idea last night. In fact, you made me feel as if it was a great inconvenience to you, and you were just doing me a favor."

Draco turned away from her and glared at the wall. She had a point. He wished he could respond with something smart and witty, but how could he, when he didn't even know himself? He was so confused.

He needed to say something to her. He needed to regain the upper hand.

"So, what you're telling me is that you wasted my time yesterday for no reason at all?" he settled on eventually, turning back to look at her.

"Umm," Hermione mumbled, uncertainly. "Yes, I guess I did."

Draco nodded. "Well, you owe me an hour of your time then."

"Excuse me?"

"I want an hour of your time as payback for you messing me around," he said, like it was the most reasonable thing in the world. "It's only fair."

"What do you want an hour of my time for?" she asked, frowning.

"I've not decided yet," he answered, casually leaning back in his chair. "I'll be sure to let you know though, once I do," he gave her a barely there smirk, which sent a shiver down her spine. "Don't look so worried, Granger. I'm not going to get you to commit a murder with me or anything like that."

Hermione pursed her lips. "Are we done here?" she asked sharply.

"For now," he said, silver eyes bright and intense.

Hermione scowled at him before getting up and walking away.

Draco watched her go, and once she disappeared around the column, he dropped his head to the table with a resounding thud.

What the fuck was he doing?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies that this is 2 days late :| *hangs head in shame*. I wrote the chapter, decided I hated it, and then wrote it again *sigh*. It's been one of those weeks. So, yeah, that's why it's late.
> 
> Again, massive thanks to Black_Osmosis for beta reading this chapter :D
> 
> Feel free to drop a comment, I love interacting with you guys! :D *hugs*


	5. Chapter 5

"Hey, Hermione!"

Hermione jumped and clutched a hand to her chest. "Bloody hell, Ron," she snapped. "Don't creep up on me like that."

Ron blinked at her and then pointedly glanced around the bustling corridor, clearly conveying that it was near impossible to creep up on anyone in this chaos. "You alright, 'Mione? What's going on?"

"Nothing. I'm  _fine_ ," she lied, sighing impatiently. Truth was, she wasn't alright at all, her nerves were completely shot. "What do you want?"

Ron frowned at her clipped tone but chose to ignore it. "I was wondering if I could borrow your notes from Potions?" he asked carefully.

"What notes?"

"You know, the ones from last week?" he prompted.

Hermione scowled. "For god's sake, Ron, don't tell me you still haven't finished your essay? It's due tomorrow!"

Ron guiltily pressed his lips together. "I've been busy with... stuff," he mumbled, scratching the back of his head.

"You mean you've been busy doing God-knows-what with Lavender Brown," she retorted. As seemed to be the theme in recent weeks, she felt an instant headache bloom in her temples at the mere mention of the Gryffindor tart.

Ron groaned, rolling his eyes. "Oh, please, don't start, Hermione," he begged, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'm not in the mood to argue with you over Lavender. I don't get why you hate her so much. You've shared a dormitory with her for years and never complained once."

Hermione felt like slapping him. "Of course you don't get it! You never do," she didn't even have to tag idiot on at the end, her trenchant tone took care of that.

Ron angrily gritted his teeth together. "That's not fair. Maybe if you tried explaining it to me, then I would know what's going on here. You haven't given me one good reason why you don't like her, all you do is yell at me and get pissed off whenever she's around."

Hermione opened her mouth, a sharp response on the tip of her tongue, but was rudely interrupted by Lavender Brown suddenly appearing out of nowhere and wrapping her arms around Ron's neck.

_Speak of the devil, and she shall appear._

"Hi, Won-Won," Lavender simpered. "Have you missed me?"

Hermione was torn between the urge to either gag or scream. They had only been apart for an hour or so, if that _._ Hermione couldn't fathom how Ron could have even had the time to  _consider_  missing her.

Ron chuckled nervously, glancing at Hermione, and attempted to pry Lavender's death grip from his neck. "Sorry, Lav, I'm just in the middle of something -"

Lavender flicked her hair and turned to glare at Hermione.

"It's fine," Hermione managed to say, in as calm a tone as she could muster. "I think we're done here. As they say, there's no use in flogging a dead horse," she couldn't help but add, as she pushed passed them.

"Wait, Hermione!" Ron called, sounding a little desperate. "Can I use your notes or not?"

 _Un-fucking-believable_. "No!" she bellowed, not bothering to turn around.

Hermione instantly stiffened, a shiver creeping up her spine, when she noticed Malfoy leaning casually against the wall outside of Transfiguration, arms crossed, Nott and Zabini flanking him on either side, as he stared at her intensely.

* * *

All through Charms, Hermione gazed blankly at her parchment. She could distantly hear Professor Flitwick's lecture on Apparition, but couldn't for the life of her concentrate on what he was actually saying. She probably should listen, she was one of the students who would be able to take the first Apparition Test in a few months' time. Even so, this didn't pique her interests like it should have. Her mind was too consumed with thoughts of Draco Malfoy, among a few other things.

It had been two weeks since they had last spoken in the library, two  _very long_  weeks, and Hermione felt like she'd been on a knife's edge the whole time.

God, but he had said that she owed him an hour of her time.

What did that even  _mean?_

What did he want to do in that hour? Hermione couldn't even fathom. She fretted over it day and night, yet nothing came to mind.

What was strange was that he hadn't so much as approached her or even attempted to get her attention. Had he been having her on just to unsettle her? If so, it was working. There was nothing that she could give him – nothing that he'd want anyway. Surely he didn't intend to spend an hour of his time with her to just… what? torment and ridicule her? She supposed that was a possibility. She should have just told him to piss off. She didn't know why she was getting herself so worked up about it. She didn't owe him anything,  _really_.

Hermione had been over this in her mind already, numerous times in fact, but she still couldn't get Malfoy out of her head. He was an unwanted distraction, and she couldn't stop thinking about when - or even,  _if -_  he was going to claim his hour.

It didn't help that he stared at her whenever they happened to be in the same vicinity, which was more often than she'd ever noticed before. She could feel his eyes on her before she actually saw him. It was unnerving. Those silver orbs were weirdly captivating, and sometimes she found herself staring back before she caught herself and turned away.

There had been a few times that Hermione had almost marched up to him, demanding to know what he planned to do with her - she wanted to tell him to just get it over with already, but she always chickened out at the last minute. One thing was for sure though - she couldn't go on like this for much longer. Otherwise she would undoubtedly end up on Janus Thickey Ward in St Mungo's.

Then there was Ron... and  _Lavender_.

Hermione's teeth gritted together at the mere thought of them.

How Ron could even consider dating someone like that was beyond her. It was an insult that he thought that  _she,_ Hermione _,_  was the one being unreasonable for not trying to be friends with the stupid bint.

Lavender Brown was a slut of epic proportions, never mind the fact that she was the most irritating person that ever lived, and Hermione simply didn't associate with people of that sort.

She shouldn't let it bother her so much, it wasn't like Ron was going to marry her or anything. At least she hoped not. She just couldn't stomach having Lavender around all the time. Every time Hermione sat down with Harry and Ron, she was there. At meal times, she was there. When the boys were playing Quidditch, she was there. In the library, she was there. And on top of all that, Hermione also had to share a dormitory with her. It was too much. There was no getting away from her. Seriously, if Hermione had to listen to Lavender call Ron 'Won-Won' or 'Wonnykins', one more time, she might actually take Malfoy up on his offer and let him throw her off the nearest tower. Not to mention, it sickened her to watch them suck each other's faces off every two seconds. Didn't they have any sense of decency? - No one wanted to see that shit.

At that moment, the door to the classroom opened, breaking Hermione from her thoughts. A blessing, really. Professor Flitwick stopped mid-sentence and gazed expectantly at the door. Hermione didn't bother to turn around and see who it was, instead she looked out of the rain-streaked window and watched, worriedly, as an owl tried to navigate its way through the pouring rain.

"I apologize for interrupting, Professor," came a deep, unmistakably cultured voice.

Hermione turned around so fast that her neck let out an audible crack.

"Not a problem, Mr Malfoy," Professor Flitwick beckoned him forward with a wave of his hand. "Class, talk among yourselves for a moment, please," he added to the room at large.

Hermione watched Malfoy make his way to the front of the classroom, and didn't glance away when he turned to smirk at her.

Bastard.

* * *

The rest of the day went by much the same.

Hermione argued some more with Ron at lunch time, and then again in Potions. She thought way too much about Malfoy and his motives and caught him staring at her too many times to count.

When it got to dinner time, she felt exhausted beyond belief.

"You look bloody shattered, Hermione," Harry commented between mouthfuls of stew.

Hermione gave him a false cheery smile. "Thank you," she gushed sarcastically. "There's nothing like a lovely compliment from a friend to boost one's spirits."

"Do you know that you've got ink smeared on your cheek?" he continued without pause, pointing to his own cheek to indicate where it was.

"No, I didn't," she sighed, reaching for a crusty roll. "It wouldn't be there if I did."

"It's been there for the last few hours," he told her.

Hermione nodded. "And you're telling me now instead of two hours ago, because...?"

Harry shrugged, and Hermione just nodded again, accepting this as a good enough answer. She didn't bother to wipe her cheek. What was the point?

"So, how's studying going?" he asked, lowering his voice. "I haven't seen you with Malfoy on the map, are you still partnered together?" he eyed her critically.

Hermione looked up towards the heavens.  _Really?!_ She asked whichever deity cared to listen.

God, Harry must have been chomping at the bit, dying to ask her about Malfoy. He hadn't so much as uttered the Slytherin's name in the last few weeks, clearly not wanting to upset her after she'd told him off the last time. He'd obviously gotten over it.

Unfortunately, Hermione hadn't gotten round to telling Harry that she wasn't studying with Malfoy anymore, or, more accurately, she hadn't known  _how_ to tell him.

"Erm," she began. Apparently, she was still none the wiser.

Harry gazed at her expectantly.

"Hey," Ron greeted, sitting down next to Harry and pulling Lavender down with him.

Hermione had never been so happy to see them. "Hi!" she waved, a little overzealous.

"Hi," Harry grumbled, clearly not happy with the interruption.

Lavender narrowed her eyes at Hermione, obviously wondering why she was so happy to see Ron. "What is that on your face?" she asked snottily.

"Oh, it's ink," Hermione answered after a slight pause. She had almost forgotten that it was there.

Lavender sniffed, pulling her face in disgust.

Hermione smiled at her, imagining big angry boils popping up all over her stupid face. "Well, I'm going to go," she said, standing up and grabbing her bag.

"But you've hardly eaten," Harry frowned.

Hermione shrugged. "For some reason, I'm not that hungry anymore," she barely glanced at Ron and Lavender as she said this, and then walked away.

* * *

Hermione walked through the empty corridors and up the Grand Staircase until the loud raucous from the Great Hall couldn't be heard anymore.

The weather outside was utterly atrocious. Sheets of rain lashed at the windows, and wind howled through the hallways. The sky looked dark and ominous, which was fitting, because it matched her mood perfectly.

She made it all the way to the 6th floor before deciding to double back to the 5th. A bath was what she needed, and what better place to have a bath than the Prefect's Bathroom.

Hermione stopped at the fourth door, just to the left of a statue of Boris the Bewildered, and said: "Sweet Vanilla".

The door let out an audible click, and she entered, locking it securely behind her.

She quickly turned on several taps - her favorite combination - and slowly undressed while the bath filled and the room began to steam up with the fragrant aroma of crisp apple and jasmine.

Once the ginormous tub was full, which took a total of 3 minutes - you had to love magic - Hermione lowered herself into the warm colorful depths and groaned in deep satisfaction.

"Well, that sounded rather enjoyable," came a voice that she did not think she'd ever hear while she was butt-arse naked in a bath.

Hermione cried out.  _Loudly_. "Malfoy!" she screeched, scooping armfuls of bubbles towards her in an attempt to keep her modesty. "What the hell are you doing in here?"

Malfoy winced, sticking his finger in his ear and wiggled it around. "Sorry, what was that? I didn't hear you because your Banshee-esk shrieking rendered me temporarily deaf."

Hermione sunk lower into the water and clutched her arms to her chest for good measure. "I said, what the hell are you doing in here, you pervert!"

"Pervert?" he chuckled. "I was here first, sweetheart, so who's really a pervert?"

Hermione's eyes swept up and down his form, taking him in properly. He had a white towel wrapped snugly around his hips, the skin of his bare upper body was speckled with tiny water droplets, and his hair was soaking wet, clearly just having finished a shower.

She narrowed her eyes. "Did you just watch me get undressed?" she asked, tone low and dangerous.

Malfoy folded his arms and bit the inside of his cheek, trying, and failing, not to grin. "Maybe," he answered vaguely.

"You bloody pervert!" she bellowed again.

Malfoy sighed and held his hands up in defeat. "Fine, I'm a pervert," he appeased and then smirked wickedly.

"Why didn't you tell me you were in here?!" she continued to yell. "No, you know what, never mind. I don't want to know, just hurry up and get out."

Malfoy smiled serenely. "Actually, I was just about to take a bath," he said, walking over to the edge of the huge swimming pool-like tub.

"What?" she hissed. "But you've just showered!"

"Yes, I know that, Granger, I was there," he reached down to unwrap his towel.

Hermione, seeing what he was doing, gasped loudly. "Don't you  _dare_ remove that towel, Malfoy."

Malfoy raised his brow at her in challenge, and then pulled his towel off in one swift motion, throwing it to the side.

"Oh my god!" Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and slapped her hands over her face, not before getting a good eyeful of Malfoy in all his naked glory. "Malfoy, have you lost your mind?!"

"Yes, a few weeks ago now," he informed her casually, as he stepped into the bath. "I'm not concerned about it though, and neither should you be," he added as an afterthought.

Hermione felt the water ripple and move against her skin as he lowered himself into the water.

_Jesus Christ, this was not happening._

Hermione dropped her hands and opened her eyes slowly. She gazed at him in disbelief. He had one arm propped up on the ledge, while his other scooped up handfuls of bubbles and squished them in his fist. He looked completely calm and unfazed by the situation, and it stumped her more than she was willing to admit.

Malfoy looked up at her through his eyelashes. "Settle down, Granger," he sighed. "You look like you're about to have a stroke."

"I think I might," she told him, swallowing thickly. "Why on earth are you in my bath?"

"Your bath?" he snorted. "I wasn't aware that you owned it."

"You know what I mean," she huffed. "I was using it first."

"Oh, so not only are you a table hog, you're a bath hog now, too," he rolled his eyes. "Why am I not surprised. What else do you like to hog in your spare time?"

Hermione gritted her teeth together. "Seriously, Malfoy, cut the shit and get out."

"Why would I do that? There's plenty of room in here for the both of us. Stop being selfish."

"Fine! I'll get out then," she fumed, turning towards the edge.

Malfoy let out a deep rich laugh. "Go right ahead."

Hermione paused, looking for her towel. Of course, it was where she'd left it, on the other side of the room with her wand nestled snugly on top of it.

Shit. How the hell was she going to get out without him seeing... well,  _everything?_

She turned to glance at him over her shoulder. "Would you mind turning around, please," she asked pleasantly, in hopes that he would be more accommodating.

"Yes," he deadpanned. "I would mind very much."

Hermione cursed him to the high heavens.

"Granger, I've already seen you naked, there's no need to be embarrassed. If you want to get out, then just get out," he said, like it was the simplest thing in the world.

Hermione deliberated for several moments, weighing up all the pros and cons, and then sighed, turning back to face him.

Malfoy gave her a self-satisfied smile. "Decided to stay, have you?"

"Oh piss off, you smug bastard," she said, narrowing her eyes.

"Now, now, there's no need for name calling."

"What are you up to, Malfoy?" she bit out. "What is this all about?"

He shrugged. "Nothing. I'm not up to anything."

"You're  _always_  up to something."

"Can't I just enjoy a nice soak in the tub without being accused of doing something nefarious?"

"No! You can't," she yelled. "Especially when you invade  _my_  private bath time."

"Haven't we already been over this? I was in here first," he said, scowling at her. "And for Christ's sake, Granger, can you please stop shouting?" he cringed. "You're giving me a headache."

Hermione scoffed, she would give him more than a headache in a minute.

"Can you at least  _try_  to relax?" he asked. "You're ruining this for me. Baths are supposed to be enjoyable. A time to unwind."

"How can I relax when you're here?"

Malfoy's eyes narrowed. "Oh, my apologies, would you rather someone else was here instead?" he snapped. "Weasley, perhaps?"

"What?" she scrunched up her face. "No!"

"Oh come off it, everyone can see how jealous you are that he's shagging Brown instead of you. I'm surprised you haven't offered yourself to him yet."

Hermione stood up in outrage. "How dare you!"

Malfoy's silver eyes dropped to her glistening full breasts, his pupils dilating until his eyes looked almost completely black.

Hermione sunk back into the water, face flaming. "I couldn't care less about what -  _or who_ \- Ron does in his spare time. I'm not jealous," she told him.

Malfoy blinked once, face expressionless. "Fine, you're not jealous."

They were silent for several moments, and Hermione took the time to ponder why Malfoy would think that she was jealous of Ron and Lavender.  _Ron and Lavender?_  It was preposterous. God, she hoped no else thought the same.

"You like him though, don't you?" Malfoy asked suddenly, voice low, as if there hadn't been an awkward lull in the conversation - if you could even call it that.

"As a friend, yes."

"No," he said, a little sharply. "As more than that."

Hermione frowned and shook her head. "No," she considered it for a moment and then shook her head more vehemently. "No way."

Malfoy snorted. "Either you're lying or you haven't even realized it yet. Both are equally pathetic."

"Don't be absurd, I don't like Ron in that way," she insisted.

Malfoy gave her a pointed look. "Fine, whatever, but seriously, Granger. You can do so much better than  _Weasley_ ," he wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"Really?" she tilted her head to the side in contemplation. What a weird thing for him to say. "And, exactly,  _who_  would be better?"

" _Anyone_ ," he told her emphatically, and then he frowned deeply. "So you do like him then? You admit it?"

" _No_ ," she couldn't help but laugh at the complete ridiculousness of it all. "Why do you even care, anyway?"

Malfoy scoffed. "I don't. I just thought I'd make you aware of how desperate you seem. That's all," he shrugged. "It's not a good look when it's Weasley, of all bloody people, that you look desperate for. At least have a little respect for yourself."

Hermione looked towards the heavens but chose to ignore him. She didn't look desperate, it was just Malfoy being a dick as usual, and she definitely didn't like Ron. Not like  _that_. So, it didn't matter what he said.

She glanced around at the bubbles and noted how they were slowly but surely melting into the water. Good grief. It wouldn't be long until there were none left.

"So," Malfoy began. "I've been thinking about that hour you owe me," he said, breaking into her thoughts. He pushed off from the side of the tub and into the center where the water was at its deepest.

Hermione stiffened, this was exactly what she had been stressing over for the last few weeks. "What about it?" she asked, watching him tread water with ease.

"Why do you look so worried?" he asked with a half frown, half smirk.

"Why  _wouldn't_  I look worried?" she countered.

"Fair point," he said, spitting water from his mouth.

This did not lessen Hermione's worry any.

"Allow me to ease your mind," he said, swimming closer to her. She eyed him apprehensively. "Why don't we just get the hour out of the way now? That way you can just forget all about it."

"Now?" she asked, looking confused.

"Sure, why not?" he shrugged, standing in front of her now.

The water sat just below his navel and Hermione flicked her eyes over every dip and hard angle of his upper body, taking in his small pebbled nipples, before landing back on his face and staring at him. "You want to use the hour to bathe with me?" she asked, uncertain. It sounded just as ridiculous out loud as it did in her head.

"Well, that's not  _really_  what I had in mind," he admitted.

This was completely and utterly ludicrous. She was naked. In a bath. With Draco Malfoy. Who was also naked. How the hell had this happened? "... absolutely ridiculous," she muttered to herself out loud, whilst shaking her head.

"I agree wholeheartedly," he said reverently. "Bathing is so overrated, showers are where it's at. Let's just shag instead."

"I -  _What?!_ " she spluttered.

"What?" he echoed, eyebrows raised in question. He gazed at her calmly, like he hadn't just proposed something wildly inappropriate and completely insane.

"You really have lost your mind," she said, tone heavy with disbelief. "Either that or I have, because I could have sworn that you just suggested that we should...  _shag_."

"Yes, that's right," he confirmed.

Hermione gaped at him. "You are demented."

"Oh, give it a rest, Granger," he rolled his eyes. "Don't tell me you haven't thought about it?"

"I haven't," she declared, looking up at him defiantly.

Malfoy gave her an inscrutable look. "You're seriously telling me that you haven't thought about the feel of my cock thrusting in and out of your tight pussy? Not even once?" he stepped closer to her and reached out his hand to caress the bare skin at her hip, beneath the water.

Hermione gasped and then blushed. Christ, how could she lie when he asked her so directly? Of course she had bloody thought about it. It didn't matter that she'd tried desperately to expel the memory from her mind, the simple fact was that she couldn't escape it. Shit, she was even thinking about it now.

"You're thinking about it now, aren't you?" Malfoy asked knowingly, as if reading her mind. "You're thinking about how it felt, the sheer pleasure coursing through your body, the feel of me on top of you."

She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head, but it was feeble at best.

"You're such a fucking liar," he breathed and, swiftly, he bent to kiss her.

It wasn't gentle, it was fierce. It was filled with  _weeks_  of pent up sexual frustration, the likes of which they both hadn't even realized they'd been harboring.

Yet, Hermione could feel that he was holding back slightly. His body was barely touching hers and it was maddening to say the least, but she'd be damned if she was going to let him know how much she really wanted this, even if resisting would nearly kill her.

Malfoy deepened the kiss, bringing his hand up to cup her cheek. They continued like this for long minutes, the pace never slowing, their lips just as hungry as when they first started, and the more it went on, the more Hermione's body seemed to hum and come alive.

Her hands, which hung lifelessly by her sides, itched to touch him. _To feel him_. God, she wanted his body pressed against hers.

Why wasn't he touching her?

Why was he holding back?

Hermione pulled back, gasping for air, and huffed out a frustrated breath. She glared up at him angrily.

Malfoy stepped back and stared at her, cheeks flushed, lips red and swollen, eyes dark as night. "Come on Granger, just admit it. You're gagging for me to touch you. All you have to do is say it, and I'll touch you where ever you want."

Hermione carefully processed his words, yet remained silent, her breath leaving her in ragged huffs.

Malfoy let out an amused puff of air. "Going the pigheaded route? No mind, I'll be right here when you're ready to accept what it is you truly want," he smirked, tone thick with arousal. He opened his arms wide in invitation, as if saying, _here I am. Come and get me._

This slightly brought her back to her senses.

"What?  _No..._ I... I don't want...  _that's not -_ " she gritted, stumbling over her words, even as her body warmed and everything in her chanted  _yes, yes, yes. Go to him._

Malfoy's arms dropped and his face darkened. "Why are you resisting?" he demanded on a low growl. "I know that you want this. I know that you want  _me_."

"You know what they say, once is an accident, twice is a trend... I don't want this to be a trend. I will  _NOT_  be your whore."

"What are you talking about?" he demanded, looking angry now.

"I know what you're like, Malfoy, I've heard all about you -"

"Christ, not this again," he sighed. "Granger, let me give you some advice, don't believe everything you hear."

"Well, you've changed your tune, haven't you? So now you're saying that you  _don't_  sleep around?" she countered, clearly not believing him. "Make up your frigging mind."

Malfoy glared at her. "Fucking hell. Fine! I don't fucking sleep around. Are you happy now?" he snapped. "I wish I had the fucking time to."

Hermione was taken aback by his seemingly honest, if not angry, response. "But when we were in the Library that time, you didn't deny it -"

"Why would I?" he cut her off. "If people want to spread rumors that I shag everything in sight, then so be it, I couldn't give a shit, it's not exactly harming my reputation."

Hermione found herself believing him, as loathed as she was to admit it. She wasn't surprised by his reasoning. It was just like him to go along with something so ridiculous. He probably thought it made him look like a sex god or something. "What about Parkinson?" she asked, brow raised.

A muscle in his jaw jumped, once, twice, but he remained reticent.

Hermione shook her head in disgust. "I knew it." She turned to get out of the bath. So what if he saw her naked? She didn't care anymore, she just wanted to get as far away from him as possible before something irrevocably stupid happened.

Just as she was about to hoist herself up, Malfoy gripped her shoulder and spun her around. "It only happened once... with Pansy," he gritted, obviously pissed that he had to say anything at all on the matter. "And I can assure you that it's not going to happen again," he said this like he couldn't think of anything worse.

Despite herself, Hermione was intrigued. "Why?"

Malfoy narrowed his eyes. "Let's just say she doesn't do it for me and leave it at that, shall we?"

Hermione stared at him. A million thoughts rushing through her mind at once, some of which made her blood race and her heart thud wildly.

In a moment of complete and utter madness, she reached out her hand under the water and gripped him firmly in her hand. She was surprised to find the he was rock hard. Rock hard for  _her_.

Malfoy's head fell back, and he groaned deeply, the sound instantly igniting sparks of pleasure low in her pelvis.

"Granger," he moaned and covered her hand with his own, as he guided her palm up and down his length.

Hermione's whole body throbbed with a need she had never felt before. God, she wanted him, as crazy as that was. He was right. She wanted him so bad.

Malfoy suddenly pushed her against the side of the bath and pressed his body against hers, his lips unerringly finding the sweet spot on her neck that sent her insane with desire.

She groaned and tilted her head to the side to give him better access, and Malfoy lined up the head of his cock at her entrance, but just as he was about to thrust in, she pushed him away.

He growled, eyes wild with lust. He looked almost beast-like, and nothing had ever turned her on more.

"I want to be in control this time," she told him firmly, if not a little breathlessly.

Malfoy looked beyond the point of being capable of a coherent response, he simply stared at her, fists clenched, chest heaving.

Hermione guided him over to the steps and pushed him down on the uppermost one before stepping up and straddling him. Malfoy's hands automatically came up to caress her breasts, and he leaned down to suck her right nipple into his mouth.

She groaned, lifting her hips and gripping his cock in her hand before she positioned herself at the tip, and then lowered herself down, extracting an almost pained moan from his lips.

Hermione had no idea what was possessing her to do this. She wasn't thinking, she was just doing. To hell with the consequences.

"Does that feel good?" she asked, lifting her hips up and then lowering herself down again.

" _Yes_ ," he groaned. "Fuck, yes."

Hermione gripped his hair and pulled his head back, staring down into his eyes as she continued her slow, maddening, pace.

She felt alive like she had never felt before. It was an intoxicating feeling - having Draco Malfoy beneath her as she took what she wanted from him, all while he submitted, his silver eyes filled with intense passion.

His hands clenched and unclenched on her hips, his arm muscles tensing and then relaxing, in a hypnotic display. "Fuck, Granger, if you carry on like this, I will surely shame myself," he confessed in a strained, husky voice.

Hermione laughed, even though his words caused her to feel things that scared her more than she was willing to admit. She felt powerful, sexy,  _untouchable_... because it was her who was making him say these things and feel this way. He was a slave to the sensations and feelings she was evoking in him, and it was like a drug she knew she would get addicted to if she wasn't careful.

With a savage growl, Malfoy lifted her and deposited her on the step before covering her with his body and thrusting into her, deep and hard.

Hermione moaned loudly, pleasure pulsing at the apex of her thighs and radiating out in wicked waves. He thrust into her again and again unrelentingly, and she realized her memory had not done any of it justice. Either that or it was just better this time.

Malfoy squeezed his eyes shut and dropped his forehead to her shoulder as she dug her nails in his back, ripping a strangled cry from his throat. His hips stuttered slightly before he began pounding into her again with vengeance.

Hermione could feel her release rapidly escalating, and she wantonly lifted her hips to meet his every thrust.

Malfoy panted into her neck, and then let out a pained groan. "Fuck, Granger, I'm coming," he murmured in her ear, sounding almost regretful that it would be over shortly.

At his words, Hermione felt her orgasm tear through her with blinding intensity, and she bit down on his neck to stifle a deafening scream. She felt his cock kick fiercely inside her as he mumbled unintelligible things into her skin.

After several bliss-filled, moments Malfoy slowly lifted his head to look at her. "Fucking hell, Granger..."

Hermione stared at him, wide-eyed.

_Fucking hell, indeed._

Now that it was over, she felt deep shock settling in, and the only thing she could think was that this wasn't an accident anymore... It was a big fucking problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seriously don't know how I got this chapter out, I'm sick as a dog for the first time in years, and my hubby is working away *cry face*. Anyway, enough of the whinging, hope you enjoyed this chapter. As always, I would love to hear your thoughts, they literally keep me going (even when I'm sick ;)). Thanks to everyone who comments, you are awesome! *hugs*
> 
> Black_Osmosis is especially awesome, thank you so much for beta reading this chapter :D


	6. Chapter 6

Draco had to admit that it was rather funny watching Granger scramble out of the bath, naked as the day she was born, as if the devil himself was hot on her heels. Sadly, that was about as far as his amusement went.

What the actual fuck had just happened?

Not the shagging part, he'd planned that, well, he had planned it after finally admitting, and getting over the fact, that he wanted to stick his cock inside Granger again. It had been a bit of a process to say the very least. It had taken him almost two weeks before he'd eventually accepted that he had lost his goddamn mind - as Granger kindly put it. No, he was more concerned with the other part. The part where he'd opened his mouth like a desperate fool and said things that he absolutely shouldn't have.

What on earth possessed him to tell her that he didn't sleep around?

After mulling the thought over for several minutes, Draco realized that he wasn't particularly bothered by the confession itself. It was true after all. It was just, why did he have to admit it to  _her_? It was none of her bloody business. And Merlin's tits, don't even get him started on the whole Pansy thing. He may as well jump out of the nearest window, because he'd basically revealed that pansy didn't do it for him _, but Granger did_.

God, that was a real face-palm moment if there ever was one.

_What was he thinking?_

Christ. He wondered how long she would lord it over him. The thought made him cringe. He had been far too honest with her, and now he would pay for it, and for what? A bit of pussy? It was ridiculous.

Draco lost himself in his thoughts, thoroughly going over everything he had said and done, as he descended the stairs into the dungeons. He passed by The Bloody Baron, without so much as a sideways glance, and accidentally shoulder-barged a 7th year Slytherin boy, not even bothering to acknowledge him when he stumbled and nearly fell over. The older Slytherin turned to glare at Draco's back as if expecting something. If he thought he was going to get an apology from the blond, he was sorely mistaken.

The stormy weather raged on outside the castle, making the freezing-cold dungeons even more unbearable than usual, but Draco barely noticed, he was currently immune to the harsh pinch of the frigid air, too busy agonizing over one particular question that - if answered - really made all of his previous thoughts rather redundant.

_Was Granger really worth all this grief?_

At the end of the day that was all it came down to.

_Was she worth it?_

Imagines of Granger, gloriously naked, on top of him, riding him so perfectly, flashed through his mind, and his cock stirred in remembrance. He thought about how he felt in that moment - rapturous, euphoric,  _obliterated._ Because there was no better feeling than taking a short leave of absence from one's mind, especially his. His mind was a scary place, and any reprieve was a welcome one.

So the answer was simple.

_Yes._

Yes, she  _was_  worth it. As loathed as he was to admit it, she was the only one that could make him forget about all the shitty things that he was going through right now. The Dark Lord's tasks were weighing heavy on his conscience, and with each passing day the burden was getting harder to bear. Also, it felt  _good_ being with Granger, so fucking good. He would be an idiot to give it up.

He was well aware of how dangerous this...  _thing_  with her was. He was playing with fire, and if he wasn't careful, he would end up burning himself alive. Still, he couldn't bring himself to be too concerned. He needed this. He needed this if he was going to carry out the Dark Lord's tasks. Granger's distraction was the only thing holding him together. If he didn't have this then he would fail anyway.

Make no mistake, this didn't mean that Draco liked Granger, hell no. He  _hated_  her. Yet, he couldn't deny that there wasn't something there, sexually. He wanted her, he wanted her body, more than he was willing to admit. He was selfish, and his reasonings where Granger was concerned were selfish too, but he didn't care. This was a dog-eat-dog world, and Draco planned to come out on top. Even if he died, at least he could say he died trying.

Draco knew that Granger wanted him, that had been made perfectly clear tonight, so he wasn't worried about her refusing him again. He would have his fill of her until he didn't need her any longer. Sure, she would probably be a massive pain in the arse most of the time, but you couldn't have it all. Draco would just have to meet her head-on, smirk firmly in place.

* * *

Draco entered his dormitory just after 8.30pm and found it to be blissfully empty. It wasn't until he'd stripped down to his boxers that the door was suddenly flung open, and someone breezed in before slamming it –  _loudly_  - behind them.

Draco tutted, knowing precisely who the heavy-handed bastard was without even having to turn around. "Blaise, is it absolutely necessary to make a godawful racket everywhere you go?" he sighed, already mourning the loss of the peace and quiet he'd manged to indulge in, brief though it was.

"Draco, there you are," Blaise said briskly, totally ignoring what the blond had said.

Draco turned to give him a narrow-eyed look.

"Good grief," Blaise gasped, stopping dead in his tracks and staring at the blond. "What the hell happened to you?"

Draco frowned in confusion. "Nothing, why?"

"Nothing?" Blaise exclaimed, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him in front of the mirror. "It doesn't look like nothing to me."

Draco stared at his reflection with something akin to horror.

_Jesus Christ Almighty._

"Did someone attack you?" Blaise pushed, inspecting a few rather deep scratch marks that ran the length of his chest. "What on earth is that?" he asked, fingering the mangled flesh at the crook of the blond's neck.

"Ow!" Draco smacked his hand away. "Bloody poking it isn't helping."

"Did someone  _bite_  you?" Blaise asked incredulously. "How did someone get close enough to bite you..." he broke off, glancing at Draco's impassive expression, as the realization of what he was really looking at hit him. "Oh," he dropped his arm to his side. " _Ew_ ," he added, scrunching up his face.

Draco rolled his eyes.

"Why you'd let Pansy do that to you is beyond me," Blaise shook his head.

"It wasn't Pansy," Draco informed him matter-of-factly. He couldn't have Blaise thinking that fucking  _Pansy_  did this to him. It was detestable.

Blaise stared at him, eyes alight with curiosity, but he knew better than to ask who had defiled him in such a way. Instead he said: "Here, let me heal them for you."

"No," Draco snapped, knocking Blaise's wand away. "Leave them."

He wanted to  _feel_  Granger in the days to come. Yes, it was kind of masochistic, so what?

Blaise frowned but put his wand back in his pocket with a sigh. "What is going on with you, Draco? Come on, talk to me. Quite frankly, Theo and I are sick to death of tiptoeing around you all the time, and now this -" he waved his hand around madly, indicating Draco's sex wounds, "- whatever  _this_  is. BDSM shit? Who the fuck knows. It's hard to get a bastard word out of you these days."

Draco scoffed at the assumption, but otherwise didn't comment.

"Draco, seriously -" Blaise trailed off and stared at the inside of Draco's left forearm, his expression suddenly turning dark. He reached out and gripped Draco's wrist, twisting it so that he could get a better look.

Draco's whole body stiffened before he slowly looked down. He wasn't sure why he even bothered, he already knew what Blaise was looking at. Clearly the glamour charm had worn off.

"No," Blaise breathed, shaking his head in denial. " _NO_ ," he repeated more firmly, like doing so would make it disappear. If only it was that simple.

Draco eyed the Dark Mark stoically, carefully examining it for the first time since he'd received it over the summer.

Bizarrely, the first thought that came to his mind was how it clashed horribly with his skin tone. The second, of course, was how absolutely hideous it was. That was a given, really. He watched in morbid fascination as Blaise ran his thumb over the angry-looking red skin that surrounded it. God, it looked a mess. It was even bleeding a little. The Mark had been bothering him since the Dark Lord had given it to him, but he hadn't wanted to look at it, he hadn't even wanted to acknowledge its existence, so he glamoured it and tried to forget that it was there. He assumed the burning pain was just part and parcel of being connected to the Dark Lord, and was simply something he'd have to get used to. Looking at it now though, _properly_  looking at it, he realized that may not be the case after all. It almost looked as if his body was rejecting it.

After a few more moments, Draco snatched his arm back and pointed his wand at it, breathing a small sigh of relief when it disappeared beneath a  _Glamour_ charm. He'd have to be more careful in future, what if Granger had seen it? Shit, the thought was repugnant. Everything would've really gone South then.

Draco watched Blaise stagger back before sitting heavily on the edge of Theo's bed.

"Draco, oh my God. Draco. Holy shit.  _Draco_."

"Do you want to say my name one more time?" Draco asked casually. "Go ahead, it might help matters, or it will do absolutely nothing at all except irritate me to death. My guess is the latter, but by all means give it a go."

Blaise stood up abruptly, glaring up at the blond. "What the fuck happened over the summer?" he asked, voice low and even. He looked angry and upset. Draco couldn't fathom why - this was happening to him - not Blaise.

"It's a long story, buy the book," Draco brushed him off, turning to grab a pair of loose sleep-trousers from his chest and pulling them on. He did not want to have this conversation now, or ever, if he had it his way.

"Draco, stop hiding behind your sarcasm and just talk to me for fuck's sake."

"Sarcasm is the soul of wit," Draco informed him.

" _Brevity_  is the soul of wit," Blaise countered. "But, strictly speaking, you're a master at both, so I don't know why I'm even bothering to argue with you."

"I'm sure if Shakespeare ever had the pleasure of meeting me, he would soon change that iconic statement," Draco mused aloud. "He still haunts the Holy Trinity Church in Stratford, perhaps I'll visit him sometime. Shame that the Muggles wouldn't accept the amendment. I can't believe they actually think he was a Muggle. Greatness like that could only come from a Wizard."

"Draco, going off on a complete tangent isn't going to discourage me from finding out what the hell happened to you. So, why not save us both the trouble and just tell me?"

Draco glared at him. "I'd rather not. I hope you like disappoint."

Blaise sneered. "I hope you like being mithered to death because I will NOT stop."

Draco growled in annoyance. Blaise was in one of his irritating, meddling moods. They didn't appear often, but when they did,he was usually in top form, and Draco rarely came out smug on the other side.

"I don't want to fucking talk about it Blaise, just drop it!" Draco roared, hoping sheer anger would dishearten him instead.

"But what if I can help? Don't you want me to help you?"

"What, you think you can stop the Dark Lord from murdering my mother?" Draco spat without thinking, he regretted it instantly.

Blaise snapped his mouth shut on a retort and gazed at Draco, pure pain evident in his expression. The news of Narcissa's possible - perhaps imminent - demise was obviously shocking and hard for him to hear. He had spent so much time at Malfoy Mannor as a child while his own Mother was out gallivanting around Europe. Narcissa had been like a mother to him. "What do you mean?" he asked, voice shaky. "Where is she? Does he have her?"

Draco pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes and released a deep sigh. "Blaise," he began, dropping his arms to his sides. "This isn't your fight. I don't want you getting involved in this. The less you know, the better. So, please, just stay out of it," he gave him a stern  _don't-fuck-with-me_ look, letting him know that the conversation was over.

For a minute, Blaise looked like he was going to argue, but then he just clenched his teeth and nodded once. He reached up and squeezed Draco's shoulders, conveying with his eyes what he couldn't with words.

 _I'm here for you_.  _If you need me, I'm here._

Draco smiled tightly. He appreciated it more than he was letting on, but it was better this way. That's not to say it was nice to know that he had at least one person on his side. He actually felt ashamed of ever doubting Blaise in the first place. He was more than a friend, he was like a brother. One of the worst parts of living in close quarters with the Dark Lord was that he made you question everything and everyone.

Even those closest to you.

* * *

For the next week or so, Draco threw himself into the tasks that the Dark Lord had set him. Talk of his mother had reignited the feverish need to get them done, once and for all. Thankfully, Blaise didn't bring up anything about Draco's Dark Mark or his mother again, things went straight back to normal in that regard, as if the conversation had never happened. That was the beauty of Slytherins - they hid behind their emotions so well that you rarely realized anything was wrong. In fact, instead of mithering Draco to death, pestering him about what had happened over the summer, Blaise kept his mouth shut and even tried to help Draco out whenever possible.

For example, when Draco would vaguely declare that he needed to go somewhere, Blaise would never question where he was going and would even go as far as telling those who were curious to  _mind their own fucking business_. This enabled Draco to go about his business with ease, and he couldn't help but feel grateful to his friend.

He had managed to get away four nights out of the school-week to work on the Vanishing Cabinet, and although it still wasn't fixed, he was making good progress. He felt confident that he would get it fixed in time.

When the weekend arrived, he headed into Hogsmeade with Blaise and Theo, but little did they know that he wasn't there to hang out with them like they thought. No, he was there to set in motion the chain of events that would lead to him completing his second task. The task which he could barely think about without feeling utterly sick.

They spent around an hour wondering in and out of shops, buying various things that they needed to stock up on - one of those things being Draco's favorite strawberry sweets - before making their way to the Three Broomsticks.

Draco and Theo found a table at the back, far away from the hustle and bustle of the bar, whilst Blaise went and bought them all a Butterbeer. It was too early for lunch, not that Draco could stomach food right now anyway.

Draco's silver eyes darted around the busy pub in an almost anxious manner, taking in all the faces, mostly students from Hogwarts, and marveling at the fact that not a single person had any idea what he was about to do.

"Here we are, boys," Blaise said, placing their drinks on the table.

Draco nodded his thanks and picked it up, taking a long drink from the glass.

Out of the corner of his eye he spotted Potter, Weasley and Granger entering the pub, bringing a gust of cold air in with them. Slowly, they weaved their way in and out of the crowd to get to the bar. Granger turned to look at him the exact moment that he turned to glance at her. Their eyes met briefly - hers confused, his unreadable - before they both averted their gazes.

Trust the pesky Golden Trio to decide to come into the pub  _now_ of all fucking times.

Draco drummed his fingers on the surface of the table and jiggled his knee restlessly waiting for the right opportunity to make his move.

"Hello, earth to Draco?" Theo waved his hands, frowning. "Are you even listening?"

Draco turned to gaze at his friends. Theo looked mildly annoyed at being ignored, and Blaise looked alarmingly suspicious. He was about to snap at Theo to bloody  _fuck off_ , his nerves getting the better of him, when Rosmerta finally stepped out from behind the bar, telling the other barmaid that she was going on her break. He watched, with anxious anticipation, as she walked down the corridor to the left of the bar, which he knew housed the toilets, a store room, and her private office.

Draco stood up abruptly.

"Where are you going?" Theo asked, exasperated.

"Toilet," Draco answered, his tone low and curt.

Taking a deep calming breath, he made a beeline for the corridor, and then walked swiftly past the toilets and the storeroom before stopping in front of Madam Rosmerta's office. Clearing his mind of any lingering hesitation, he lifted his hand and knocked firmly.

* * *

Later that afternoon, a 7th year Gryffindor girl named Katie Bell was cursed by a Dark object.

An Opal Necklace, to be exact.

* * *

On Monday morning, Draco sat alone at the Slytherin table, sipping his morning coffee.

The Great Hall was unusually quiet. Everywhere he looked he was met with the same grim expression. It made him want to punch something - preferably Potter's face - because the tosser had done nothing but stare at him since he walked in around fifteen minutes ago.

Draco picked up a piece of buttered toast and stuck his middle finger up at the prick.

Potter promptly choked on his pumpkin juice, and Draco couldn't help but smirk. He could literally  _feel_  Potter's righteous indignation from all the way across the hall. If only he had choked on something more solid, like a sausage, maybe he would have died. Then again, probably not. Sadly, Draco wasn't that lucky.

"Good morning, darling," Pansy simpered, sitting down next to him.

Draco barely suppressed a groan before grunting out an unintelligible response.

His morning was just getting better and better.

"Did you hear about that Gryffindor girl?" she asked, pouring herself a cup of tea.

Draco turned his head slowly towards her and glared. "Of course I did," he snapped. "It's all anyone can fucking talk about."

Christ, but he wanted to strangle her for bringing it up. He'd only just managed to stop thinking about it.

"Apparently it was a cursed necklace. Where she got a bloody cursed necklace from is anyone's guess. Snape said that she's lucky to be alive," Pansy sniggered.

Draco couldn't fathom how she thought it was funny. It was far from it in his opinion. Although, that was probably his guilt getting the better of him.  _Fuck_. "Great," he said, doing his best to sound bored.

"She's not in the clear yet though," Pansy continued. "I heard that she'll be spending quite a bit of time in St. Mungo's. You never know, she might still die," she actually sounded happy about it.

Draco pushed the remainder of his breakfast away, his appetite swiftly leaving him to be replaced by nausea. "Pansy, I really couldn't give a shit. So would you kindly shut the fuck up about it."

She rolled her eyes at him. "Alright, no need to get testy."

"I'm not," he argued. "I just don't know why everyone keeps going on about it. She didn't fucking  _die_. I don't see what the big deal is. Despite what you've just said," he gritted. "I'm sure she's going to be fine," he stood up angrily.

"Hey, where are you going?" she asked, frowning and reaching out to him.

Draco snatched his arm away, throwing her a disgusted look. "Don't touch me."

Pansy looked up at him in confusion. "But I thought -"

"What?" he spat. "You thought that because I shagged you that one time that I suddenly like you now? You thought that we were a  _thing_?" he laughed humorlessly and leaned down until his face was level with hers. "Listen carefully, because I'm only going to say this once. It meant nothing.  _You_  mean nothing," he told her cruelly.

"You don't mean that," she whispered.

"Oh, I do," he nodded, grey eyes wide and sincere. "What can I say," he shrugged. "You were a shit shag. Sorry," he carelessly added.

Pansy's hand flashed up and slapped him  _hard_  across the face.

Draco's head whipped to the side before he turned back to snarl at her. " _Bitch!_ "

"Draco," Blaise warned.

Draco glanced over at him, suddenly remembering where he was.  _Fuck_. He was in the bloody Great Hall, and everyone was staring at him. God, he had not meant to do this  _here_  of all places. The last thing he needed right now was attention on him. He needed to leave.

After one last glare at Pansy, he straightened up and stalked away.

"Draco," she yelled after him, voice thick with unshed tears. "Draco,  _please_. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to do that."

Draco scoffed but didn't turn back. Was she serious? After what he'd just said to her,  _she_  was sorry? How pathetically desperate.

He glanced over at the Gryffindor table, eyes instantly finding Granger, and was surprised to find her grinning.

Draco scowled at her.

What the fuck was she so happy about?

* * *

Katie Bell's name swirled around Hogwarts castle for the rest of day. Even the sodding ghosts were talking about her. Draco couldn't get away from it, and it was driving him crazy.

 _Fucking hell, it wasn't meant for her!_ He wanted to yell.  _It was meant for someone else. Get over it!_

Draco wasn't going to lie, he felt bad for her, but he didn't regret doing what he did. Let's face it, she was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and that wasn't his fault. In any case, if a few innocents had to fall to save his mother, then so be it. Anyone in his position would do the same. He wasn't going to waste another guilt-ridden thought on it.

He was pissed that his plan hadn't gone the way he wanted it to,but he had a back-up already set in motion. He just hoped that it went right this time.

Granger had looked smug all day.  _Insufferable cow_. He couldn't figure out why. He had tried, on numerous occasions, to catch her attention, but she was being her usual prissy self.

It wasn't until 6:37 that night that he just happened to bump into her as she was walking out of Slughorn's office, carrying a large tottering pile of books.

"Granger," he greeted, tone light and pleasant. "Fancy seeing you here. Stocking up on some light reading, I see."

Hermione huffed out a strained breath as she tried to maneuver the ridiculous stack of books into a more comfortable position.

Draco watched, with eager anticipation, as the books swayed ominously. He sighed, feeling deeply disappointed, when they settled and didn't fall.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" she asked impatiently. "As you can see, I have my hands full."

"That you do," he agreed. "Here, let me rectify that for you," he reached out with his index finger and gave the teetering pile a little push, stepping back as they all crashed to the floor in a messy heap.

"Malfoy!" she yelled, tone unmistakably furious. "What the hell did you do that for?"

"My, but you're in a bad mood this evening," he tutted. "It's rather at odds with the chipper mood you've been in all day. Strange, really, considering one of your own is hauled up in St. Mungo's. One might say you've even looked quite smug."

Granger gazed at him, and then burst out laughing.

Of all the things he had expected her to do, this was not one of them. He stared at her like she'd lost her mind. "What's so funny?"

"Oh, nothing," she waved him off, trying to smother her laugh. She knelt down and began picking up her books. "How's your cheek?" she snorted.

"Oh, I get it. Hilarious," he deadpanned, watching her struggle. "I'm glad that you find me getting slapped so amusing."

"Very," she confirmed, smirking. "I must say, I'm quite curious to know what you said tocause such a reaction."

"Curiosity killed the cat," he told her firmly. How dare she find such merriment in his humiliation.

Hermione carefully straightened up, towering books in hand. "Sounds to me like you're upset that Pansy won't be at your beck and call anymore. I thought you said that she didn't do it for you?" she asked, eyebrow raised.

Of course she would bring up what he'd said in a brief moment of weakness. Nevertheless, Draco smirked. "What gave you that idea?" he asked, tilting his head to the side. "I say jump, Pansy says how high. Don't let that little quarrel fool you."

Granger's face dropped. "Well, she's an idiot then, isn't she," she snapped.

"Why, Granger, you're not  _jealous,_  are you?" he asked in a scandalous whisper.

Hermione scoffed. "Of what? You? In your dreams," she moved to step around him, seemingly done with the conversation.

Draco moved to block her path. "Meet me tonight?" he asked, getting straight to the point, his voice low and intense.

She stared at him for a few moments, her expression not giving away anything. "I can't," she finally replied, tone clipped.

"Why?" he asked, a deep frown marring his features.

"Because I'm doing something," she answered vaguely, shifting the books in her arms as she gazed at the wall, choosing not to look at him.

_What sort of an answer was that?_

"Then undo it," he told her, not bothering to mask his irritation. She was purposely being recalcitrant and he didn't appreciate it.

"No, I can't," she pursed her lips. "Sorry." She didn't sound sorry at all.

Draco growled. "Why are you so  _difficult_?" he swiftly glanced up and down the corridor, and then knocked the books right out of her arms again before pushing her against the wall and kissing her firmly.

Granger melted into the kiss without so much as a slight objection.

Draco hummed and deepened the kiss, brushing his tongue against hers as he pulled her hips flush against his own.

Hermione gasped, pulling away when she felt his erection press against her lower abdomen.

"Meet me tonight," he demanded, pressing his forehead to hers.

"I really can't," she told him breathlessly.

"Fine," he sighed. "Tomorrow?"

"I can't," she said.

"For fuck's sake," he growled.

"I can't help that I'm busy," she huffed sounding irritated, and Draco had the sudden urge to strangle her.

Was she having him on? Did she think this was some sort of game?

He took a deep calming breath. "Alright," he reluctantly conceded. "You tell me when you're next free, then?" he asked, eyes narrowing slightly.

Hermione glanced away, shrugging. "I don't know."

Draco stepped back and glared at her. He wanted to yell at her, and call her a dick-teasing whore, but what was the point? "You know what, fuck it," he turned and walked away.

If she wanted to be an awkward cow then he wasn't sticking around to bear witness to it.

"Malfoy," she sighed. "Wait."

He stopped, but didn't turn around.

"Wednesday. I'll meet you on Wednesday," she didn't sound particularly happy about it. Perhaps she didn't like the fact that she'd succumbed to her desires. Well, Draco had done enough of that. Now it was her turn.

Draco spun around. "I'm glad that you've finally come to your senses," he said.

"Don't push it," she warned, eyes narrowing into slits.

He held his hands up in surrender. "What time?"

"9:30," she answered. "I have Prefect duty."

"Perfect, meet me on the 7th floor. And don't be late," he added, tilting his head forward and looking at her through his eyelashes.

"Malfoy," she called out as he made to leave. "If you want this to be a regular occurrence, we need to set some ground rules."

"Do we really?" he rolled his eyes. Why was he not surprised?

"Yes, we do," she told him in a no-nonsense manner. "We'll discuss it on Wednesday."

Draco groaned. "Great, I can't wait," he smiled, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Christ, that's all he needed. Granger with a list of bloody rules.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. Sorry it's late. I'm still ill, can you believe it? It's almost gone now but it did wipe me out all of last week and now I'm behind *sigh*. Anyway, there's a few things I want to say. Firstly, I'm not sticking to the exact timeline in the book, so please don't get annoyed if it doesn't line up correctly. Secondly, even though I'm going to try and stick to most major events that take place in book 6, there may be a few I change, or leave out completely, again, don't get upset by this. It's just necessary for my story. I'm sure you've already realized this, but I just thought I'd make sure :D. *hugs all around*
> 
> Thanks so much Black_Osmosis for beta reading this chapter. We went back and forth quite a few times :). Thank you for challenging me, and making sure I'm writing at my best.


	7. Chapter 7

Hermione briskly walked along the 7th floor corridor and stopped outside of a random classroom to lean against the wall.

She checked her watch. It was 9:44pm, which meant she was nearly fifteen minutes late. She glanced up and down the corridor, noting that Malfoy was nowhere to be seen. It seemed that he was late also, either that or he had been on time and decided not to wait around for her. She wasn't sure how she felt about the latter, a little relieved perhaps, but mostly frustrated. Frustrated because she hadn't been able to get Malfoy out of her head since the bathroom incident. Bathroom incident. Classroom incident. She could see a theme forming, and the thought of him not turning up made her irrationally angry.

Quite frankly, Hermione was  _confused_. She was frustrated and confused. After what had happened with Malfoy in the prefects bathroom, she had barely been able to think of anything else. She had been sure that he would seek her out again, especially after that rather public breakup with Pansy Parkinson - which, actually, she later found out hadn't been a breakup at all - but when more than a week had passed without so much as a glance in her direction, she had started to question herself. That overwhelming power she had thought she had over him had slowly began to dwindle until all she felt was a deep sense of insecurity.

It was stupid and ridiculous, she knew that. She was smarter than this. She shouldn't be feeling this way about Draco Malfoy. He was utterly despicable, and she detested feeling anything other than complete loathing towards him, but the reality was that things had changed, and she couldn't deny that there was something between them. She was attracted to him that much was crystal clear, everything else though, was shrouded in darkness, and she couldn't make sense of any of it.

Hermione thought back to what Harry had said to her a few nights ago. Apparently, Malfoy was back to spending most of his time in the Room of Requirement. She was saddened to hear this because it, of course, sent Harry's already suspicious mind into complete overdrive. He'd been relentless when voicing his misgivings regarding Malfoy's motives, and had even gone as far as demanding to know why Hermione hadn't been studying with him - because he hadn't seen them together on the map.

Hermione wasn't sure whether to feel relived or annoyed by this. Relieved that Harry hadn't caught her and Malfoy in the prefects bathroom - she had almost gone crazy with the stress of it all. Annoyed that he was still stalking Malfoy's every move on the map. In the end she settled on a nameless emotion in between the two and just tried to tune him out as best as she could.

It wasn't until Harry started up with his rather worn out argument about Malfoy being a Death Eater, that Hermione almost swallowed her tongue.

_Death Eater._

_Dark Mark._

Good grief, but the last time Hermione had been alone with Malfoy she had never checked to see if he had the Dark Mark.

The horror that washed over her had been sudden and intense.

Christ, but they had both been completely naked and the thought to check his arm hadn't once crossed her mind.

God, what was wrong with her?

But surely she would have seen it if he'd had one? She wouldn't have missed something as glaringly obvious as a Dark Mark... Would she?

No, no way, it was impossible...

"Granger."

Hermione almost jumped out of her skin. She spun around and came face to face with the man himself.

Malfoy eyed her funnily. "What's up with you? You look troubled. Did you misplace your favorite book or something?"

Hermione blinked up at him. He was smirking at her. "No... Nothing," she muttered distractedly, trying to shake the memory of her conversation with Harry. "I was just... thinking."

"You think too much," he told her.

"Where did you just come from?" she asked, frowning. She had been facing the Grand Staircase so that she could see him coming, but instead he had come up behind her. She looked over his shoulder, in the direction he had traveled from, and narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Where were you?"

"Ah yes, apologies for being late, I was -"

"You were in the Room of Requirement," she cut him off swiftly. "Why?"

Malfoy gazed at her. "I see you're sticking your nose where it doesn't belong, again. Is that an unintentional habit you have, or do you just really get a kick out of being a nosy bitch? I'm just curious."

Hermione pursed her lips. "Well, there's my answer," she said.

"How'd you work that one out? I didn't reply to your question," Malfoy sneered at her. "I tend to ignore the especially intrusive ones, which, let's be honest, most of yours  _are_."

"Your avoidance of the question was answer enough," Hermione told him, shooting him a withering glare.

"Or I just think that you're an interfering cow and don't feel compelled to answer," Malfoy offered. "But whatever," he shrugged. "Come on, let's go," he gripped her arm and proceeded to pull her down the corridor.

"Where are we going?" she asked, sounding thoroughly exasperated.

"Somewhere I can fuck your brains out," he told her bluntly.

Hermione tutted at his vulgar choice of words.

"What? I can't shag you right here in the corridor, can I? Someone might see and get sickeningly jealous of you," he turned to smirk at her.

"How you manage to walk around with that massive head of yours is beyond me."

"How you walk around with that nest on top of your head stumps me too, sweetheart," he retorted.

Hermione scowled, patting her hair down self-consciously and almost tripped when Malfoy pulled her to an abrupt stop. "The Room of Requirement?" she asked, surprise coloring her tone. For a brief moment she wondered if he was taking her into the Room of Hidden Things, but then immediately dispelled the thought. Of course not. How ridiculous. He would never voluntarily show her the room he disappeared into for hours on end. Again - for what must have been the hundredth time - she found herself pondering what he got up to in there.

"Yes, the room of requirement," he repeated, pulling her from her thoughts. "Why, do you have any other suggestions? Perhaps you'd rather I fuck you on a desk again? Personally, I don't mind either way," he finished with a leer.

"Stop being crude," Hermione admonished. "The Room of Requirement is fine."

It was actually the only option they had if they didn't want Harry catching them. Jesus, imagine he saw her and Malfoy's dots merge together on the map. What would he think? In all seriousness, he probably wouldn't think they were shagging. He was more likely to think that Malfoy was murdering her.

Malfoy rolled his eyes and began walking back and forth in front of the bare expanse of wall right where the door would appear. Nothing happened. He tried again. Still, nothing happened.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked, eyeing the wall and its lack of a door. "Why isn't the door appearing?"

"It seems that the room has certain morals and isn't fond of them being abused," she gave him a questioning look. In response, he simply grinned before turning to make another attempt.

A door appeared this time and Hermione gazed at it apprehensively, wondering what type of room he'd managed to conjure up for them.

Malfoy reached for the door handle and stepped aside to hold it open for her.

Hermione stared at him like he'd grown a second head. She wasn't aware that he was capable of doing anything that even slightly resembled a gentleman, not for her anyway.

"Well, hurry up. We don't have all fucking night," he sighed impatiently, and just like that everything was right with the world.

Hermione threw him a dirty look and pushed past him into the room.

She stopped in the center and gazed around. There was a large bed against the far wall and a settee in front of a roaring fire, and that was basically it. It was small but cosy, nothing like she'd imagined Malfoy would conjure up. Quite the opposite, actually.

Malfoy walked in and locked the door securely behind him.

Hermione turned to look at him. Now that they were in here, she felt unbelievably nervous. Was this really a good idea, locking herself inside the Room of Requirement with Draco Malfoy? Especially, when no one knew where she was. If something were to happen to her, no one would know where to find her. "So," she began awkwardly, clasping her hands together.

Malfoy, clearly not having the same misgivings, stepped towards her and cupped her face in both of his hands before leaning down to kiss her deeply.

Hermione instantly melted, all her worries fleeing at once to be replaced by a deep sense of yearning.

God, she missed this.

They kissed for long moments, Hermione relishing in the feel of his lips against hers. She had been craving this so much. Malfoy, like she feared, was becoming her drug, and she felt powerless to stop it.

How did he do his to her? How did he make her feel these things? Her body was literally burning up with need.

Malfoy hummed deeply, running his hands over the outer curve of her breasts and down to her hips before grasping her bottom in both palms and squeezing.

Hermione gasped and pressed herself closer to him, running her fingers through the short hair at the nape of his neck. Damn, but his hands felt good.

Malfoy broke the kiss to pull her earlobe into his mouth and nibbled on it gently. "I want to be inside you," he told her boldly, his voice low and husky.

Hermione groaned despite herself, pleasure shooting through her core at his words and pulsing relentlessly. Yes, she wanted that too. So very much.

Not needing anymore encouragement than that, he started to remove her robe, undoing the clasp before pushing it off her shoulders to fall at her feet.

Hermione vaguely mused about how quickly things were escalating ... Wasn't there something she was supposed to do?

Malfoy pulled her bottom lip into his mouth, sucking it firmly, before brushing his tongue against hers in that enticing way that had her virtually vibrating with the need to crawl on top of him and take him. It was such a primitive urge, one that he always seemed to evoke in her in these situations. It was like she reverted back to the stone-ages where instincts were straightforward and basic. If you wanted something, you just took it without thought of consequence. It was like her hormones took over and she had no say in what happened.

Yet, she wasn't in the stone-ages, she was in the bloody twentieth century, and she needed to get a grip of herself and take control of the situation before things got out of hand.  _Again_.

"Wait," she breathed, halting his eager hands that were pulling at the hem of her school jumper.

Malfoy stopped, mouth hovering over hers, their noses touching. She could feel his breath grazing her lips with soft little puffs of air, and she wanted so badly to kiss him again. She almost did.

_No._

Hermione needed to talk to him first. She needed to know what was going on here. She couldn't do this again and have him walk away and ignore her for weeks until he felt the need to seek her out. It was disrupting her life – or, more accurately, the unknown was driving her  _insane_  - and she wouldn't allow it to continue.

"We need to talk," she said, swallowing deeply and stepping away from him.

"What?" Malfoy's silver eyes followed her as she moved away even further. "You can't be serious?"

"I'm dead serious," she assured him, standing her ground. She would not let him manipulate the situation. Not this time.

He snorted humorlessly. "Cock blocking me again," he commented, reaching down to shamelessly adjust his erection into a more comfortable position, not in the least bit bothered that Hermione was watching him. "Is this how it's going to be from now on?"

From now on? So did that mean that he did intend for this to continue?

"Well, that will all depend on how the conversation goes," she said, crossing her arms.

Malfoy stared at her. He looked frustrated. "Don't you get tired of talking, Granger?" he asked, tone clipped.

"Don't you get tired of being a dick?" she retorted.

_Touché._

Malfoy narrowed his eyes at her. "Never. Being a dick is so much fun."

 _Arsehole._ "Will you just sit down," she asked, moving to sit on the settee.

" _Will I sit down,_ " he said, sounding thoroughly exasperated. "You really want me to sit down?" he asked and she nodded. He glanced mournfully at the bed before turning back to her and letting out a long suffering sigh. "Is this going to take long? This isn't exactly what I had planned for tonight."

"The way you're carrying on, probably," she told him.

"What the fuck do you want to talk about? World Peace? House-elf welfare?" he pulled his face like he couldn't think of anything worst. "Let me tell you, you're preaching to the wrong crowd. None of that shit interests me, so you may as well save your breath."

"Of course it doesn't. Nothing interests you unless you have something to gain from it," she snapped. "Selfish bastard that you are. But anyhow, I digress. This isn't about your egocentric tendencies."

"It isn't?" he asked mildly. "What a shame, I love talking about myself."

Hermione couldn't tell if he was joking or not. She glared at him. "Sit down."

Malfoy stalked towards her slowly, smirk firmly in place, and sat down right next to her.

Hermione sighed. "What are you doing? There's plenty of room on here without you nearly sitting on top of me."

"Yes, well, this is where I want to sit," he lifted his arm and placed it along the back of the settee, behind Hermione's head, and turned his body towards her, his leg flush against hers. "You don't mind, do you?" he asked innocently.

"Would it make any difference if I said that I did mind?" she bit out.

"No," he told her plainly, not missing a beat.

Hermione rolled her eyes. Christ, but this was going to be long and painful.

"Well, go on then, what is it that you want to talk about?" he asked, looking bored. He pulled on one of her curls and then let it go, watching as it sprang back into place.

Where to start? With Malfoy it was usually best to get straight to it. He got irritated with small talk, and she wanted to get this over with as quick as possible. "What is going on here, Malfoy?" she asked, biting the bullet.

"You tell me. As far as I can tell you're trying to bore me to death with your prattle," he answered.

Hermione gritted her teeth together and counted to ten. "Between us. What is going on between  _us_?"

"Apparently, nothing," he quipped. "Not for the sake of trying, I might add. Are we done yet?" he leaned in to kiss her and she pushed his face away. Malfoy scowled at her, looking thoroughly disgruntled.

"No, we are not," she snapped. "And you better start taking me seriously, otherwise I'm leaving," she threatened. "My God, why am I even putting up with this?" she asked herself aloud.

"Christ, I was joking," the look he gave her was one of a suffering nature. "You have no sense of humor."

"I have no sense of  _Malfoy_  humor," she corrected him.

"Shame that. I'm sure you'll catch on eventually," he said.

"I severely hope not, the day that happens is a very sad day indeed."

"Or a very joyous one," he countered, pulling his jumper over his head and throwing it to the floor. "It would do wonders for helping dislodge that stick up your arse."

"And what, I wonder, would help dislodge yours? I fear there's nothing this world can offer," Hermione retorted and pursed her lips at him, watching as he undid his green tie and threw it blindly over his shoulder. "What on earth are you doing?" she asked.

"Just getting comfortable," he smiled crookedly at her, eyes glittering in a way that made her instantly suspicious. "Now, what was it you were saying? Not about the stick up my arse, the other thing," he clarified.

She sighed. "I was asking what's going on with us? What I mean is, where is  _this_  going?" she waved her hand back and forth in the limited space between them.

"Is this seriously what you wanted to talk about?" he asked, tone belying how unimpressed he was.

"One of the things, yes," she responded curtly.

Malfoy didn't look happy to learn that she had more than one thing to discuss. "I don't know what's going on with us, Granger. We've shagged twice. That's all I can tell you. I'm quite sure you're already aware of this though, so I really don't know what you want me to say."

"Well, is this something that's going to be a regular thing?"

"I don't know, do you want it to be?" he turned the question back on her.

"I asked you first," she hated that she was resorting to childish comebacks, but she would not be the first one to say it.

Malfoy stared at her for what seemed like an age. "Yes," he answered eventually. "If I have my way, and I usually do, this is going to be a regular thing. Do you have a problem with that?"

It was ridiculous, but Hermione couldn't help the little burst of girlish excitement that ignited in her chest. She even managed to overlook his big-headedness.

"You seem happy with my answer, so I take it that you don't have a problem," he smirked. "Clearly you don't want our little trysts to end," he looked infuriatingly smug. "But let me make one thing perfectly clear, that's all they are,  _trysts_ , don't go falling in love with me or anything else equally ridiculous."

"I won't if you won't," she sang, teasingly.

_As if that would happen._

"Oh, there's no chance of that," he assured her.

"Then it's settled," she said, all business like. "No falling in love with each other.  _Easy_. Now -" she turned slightly towards him, their shoulders bumping, "- we need to set aside certain times of the week to meet. I hate the way it is at the moment, you don't say anything for weeks and then just seek me out when you want me. I don't like it. I'm not a toy to be used whenever you feel like it. This is a two way street, and I have a say in how it goes. If you don't like it, then we'll part ways tonight."

Hermione's stomach dropped as the last words left her mouth. She wanted to snatch them out of the air and shove them back down her throat. God, she shouldn't have said that, what if he doesn't like it, and decides to leave now?  _Shit_. It was true what she'd said, she wasn't a toy to be used, but that didn't necessarily mean that she wanted this to end if he didn't agree with her.

Malfoy bit his bottom lip and eyed her shrewdly. "Alright, Granger, I hear you. Tell me your terms then? I assume you have some," he raised his brow.

Hermione wanted to breathe a deep sigh of relief, but resisted. She could scarcely believe how cooperative he was being. "OK. Well, firstly, I don't share."

Malfoy laughed at this - as in threw his head back and outright laughed.

"I'm serious," she told him.

"Oh, I know you are," he grinned. "You can't stand the thought of anyone else touching me, can you?"

She couldn't, actually, but she wasn't going to admit that to him. "Hardly. I'm an only child, I never learnt to share. Also, I'd rather not catch an S.T.I, so if I hear of you sleeping with anyone else, then this ends immediately."

"What on earth is an S.T.I?" he asked, frowning, and then shook his head. "Never mind, I don't want to know, obviously something to do with Muggles and absolutely irrelevant here," he threw her an impatient look. "Anyway, it seems we have something in common. I never learnt to share either, although I'm not really concerned with you sleeping with anyone else. I don't think you have it in you to have two affairs going at the same time. It's just so un-Granger-ish."

"Then we are in agreement?" she asked. "No other flings until this one has run its course?"

"Do you want to pinky promise?" he teased, holding his little finger up.

Hermione contemplated breaking it, but it would only prolong things. "Also, no talking about  _this_  to anyone."

"Fucking hell, Granger.  _Obviously_ ," Malfoy scoffed.

No one could know about them, it was dangerous. Yet, Hermione still couldn't help feeling hurt by his vehemence. "I can meet you Saturday nights and Wednesday nights, do these days work for you?" she swiftly continued on.

"How do I know? I don't have daily schedules written months in advance," he snorted but abruptly stopped when he noticed her rather curiously blank expression. "Jesus Christ," he said slowly, eyeing her in disbelief. "Don't tell me you have daily schedules written months in advance?"

Hermione brushed some imaginary fluff off her skirt and glanced away from him.

"Wow. That's really fucking sad, do you know that? Bloody hell, Granger," he shuffled to the other end of the sofa, away from her, and kicked his shoes off before lifting his feet up onto the couch and stretching his legs out.

"There's nothing wrong with being organized," she defended herself.

"No. There's organized, then there's OCD, and then there's you," he ticked each one off on his fingers. "You know you can't control everything."

_She could try._

Hermione huffed and looked down at his sock-covered feet that were just grazing her thigh. She felt like pushing them off the settee, but she resisted.  _Just_. "They're the only days I can meet," she told him.

"They're the only days you're  _willing_  to meet. There's a difference," he propped his head up on his forearms and gazed at her. "I can't believe you want to schedule in sex," he chuckled at her. "Do you have a schedule for everything then? Sleeping... eating... toilet breaks...  _masturbating_  -"

"Take it or leave it," she snapped, cutting him off. "I have other things I have to do. My world doesn't,  _and won't ever_ , revolve around you."

"Alright. Relax, Granger, you don't want your hair to fall out. Where would all the birds sleep then?"

"Fuck off, Malfoy," she told him plainly.

Malfoy looked up towards the heavens. "I see you still haven't caught on to the Malfoy humor. Don't worry, I'm not giving up hope just yet."

Hermione sighed and made to leave. It was a wonder she hadn't left sooner.

"Fine," he agreed quickly, sighing in exasperation. "If I can make your ridiculous Wednesday and Saturday demands, then I will, if not..." he shrugged.

Why did he have to be so difficult? Surely he could make sure he was free on those nights. "Fine," she reluctantly agreed and settled in her seat again.

"Good," Malfoy said and began slowly unbuttoning his shirt. "Now that that's out of the way -" he left the sentence open, eyes burning into hers with meaning.

"Hold on," she blurted. "We haven't finished yet."

He rolled his eyes at her but continued to undo his shirt. "Are you sure? What else could you possibly want to talk about?"

Hermione's eyes followed his fingers, drinking in the creamy skin that was exposed, inch by inch. "What?" she blinked distractedly.

Malfoy smirked and popped the last button before sitting up to remove the garment completely. "What else did you want to talk about?" he repeated, looking like the cat that got the cream.

He was obviously trying to seduce her out of talking, and by the look on his face he clearly thought he'd won. Hermione was loathed to admit that it was kind of working, but after giving herself a swift talking to, she cleared her throat and glared at him. "I need to talk to you about..." she trailed off, staring at the inside of his left forearm.

Malfoy stiffened, eyes whipping down to where she was looking. Hermione missed the panic that clouded his features, as well as the look of sheer relief that washed over his face a split second later.

There was no Dark Mark. His skin was clear and tattoo-free. That meant that Malfoy wasn't a Death Eater.

A weight, which she hadn't been aware of, suddenly lifted from her shoulders, and the relief she felt was almost enough to make her groan out loud.

Harry was wrong.  _He was wrong_. And she had never been so happy about it.

Hermione hadn't realized how much the fact that Malfoy could have been a Death Eater was playing on her mind, even though she had been sure that he wasn't one.

Malfoy frowned at her. "What is it, Granger?" he asked shortly. "You've got a weird look on your face, and I don't like it."

"Nothing," she half-smiled, not being able to help herself. "Sorry," she shook her head to clear it, but found herself staring at his forearm again, just to make sure.

Malfoy glared at her and sat up, covering his arm in the process. "What the fuck are you looking at?" he asked, tone sharp and agitated.

Hermione glanced up at his face. "Nothing," he gazed at her, grey eyes fierce and unrelenting. She swallowed deeply, realizing that she had been caught staring, and he probably knew why.

stared at her fiercely, and she swallowed deeply, realizing that she had been caught staring, and he probably knew why.

"Do you have something you want to say?" he asked angrily, making it almost sound like a demand.

"Um..." she began uncertainly.

"Go on, what is it?" he encouraged. "You look like you have something to say, so just say it."

"Well..."

"Spit it out," he snapped.

Hermione couldn't understand why he was so angry. "Harry thought that you were -" she broke off - she shouldn't be admitting this. Malfoy narrowed his eyes at her, and she reluctantly continued. "He had this ridiculous notion that...  _Well_ , he thought you were -"

"A Death Eater," he finished for her. "Tell me something I don't already know."

"You knew that?" she asked, surprised.

"Yes, he told me so about a month ago when I had an unfortunate run-in with him and Weasley, in fact, you showed up too, if I remember correctly," he told her.

Ah, that's right. Jesus, she hadn't known that Harry had outright accused him of being a Death Eater though. For crying out loud. "I didn't know that," she confessed.

"Well, now you do. That doesn't explain why you keep staring at my arm."

Hermione could kick herself. It was probably best to just be truthful with him, Christ, she had been so far, what was a little more honesty at this point. "Harry asked me to find out whether you had a Dark Mark or not. You know, in our study sessions," she added, not wanting him to think that she and Harry had devised a plan of her sleeping with him just to find out if he was a Death Eater or not. Malfoy didn't seem concerned though, so she continued. "Now I can safely tell him that you're not, which is great. He'll probably back off now."

Malfoy frowned at her in confusion. "Wait, but didn't you already know this?" he asked. "I mean, this isn't the first time you've seen me without my shirt on."

"Yes, well... I was kind of distracted last time," she confessed, blushing.

Malfoy continued to frown at her, not even taking advantage of the chance to mock her about being distracted the last time they were together. "So, you willingly slept with me even though you thought I was a Death Eater and was yet to find solid proof that I wasn't?"

"No," she scoffed.

Malfoy stared at her. "You're not making any sense," he told her.

Hermione sighed. " _I_  never believed you were a Death Eater.  _Harry_  was the one who thought you were. I mean it's not like I didn't try to convince him otherwise, but he was having none of it. You can be hateful at times, Malfoy, but I don't believe you're evil. I would never have let this happen between us if I truly thought you were a Death Eater."

Malfoy's face darkened at her words, and she couldn't understand why. What did she say wrong? The way he looked at her gave her instant shivers. "But what if Potter had been right and you had been wrong. What would you have done then?"

She gazed back at him without blinking. "I would have walked right out of this room," she answered honestly.

"And then what?" he pushed. "Would you have gone straight to Dumbledore to tell him that he has a Death Eater living under his roof? Or would you have gone to the Order of the Phoenix instead?"

Hermione licked her suddenly dry lips. She didn't like the direction the conversation was going. "I don't know," she answered defensively, standing up to smooth her hands over the front of her clothes. She felt uneasy. "What does it even matter?" she attempted to brush it off. "You're not a Death Eater."

"I'm just curious," he stood up too and moved to stand in front of her. "What would you have done? You would have gone to Dumbledore, wouldn't you?"

"I said I don't know -"

"Surely you've thought about it, even if you didn't think I was a Death Eater. There was always a chance after all, you would have been stupid to think otherwise," he continued almost conversationally. "It's always better to be safe than sorry -"

"Fine!" she cut him off. "Yes, I probably would have gone to Dumbledore. Happy now? I don't see what knowing this has to achieve. It's absolutely irrelevant."

They stared at each other for long moments, Hermione's heart beating wildly in her chest. Why was he looking at her like that? So lost and despondent.

"Malfoy, what is it?" she asked lowly, senses tingling.

Malfoy suddenly blinked, his face clearing and his shoulders relaxing. He smiled at her. "Nothing. You're right, of course," he agreed. "The whole thing is irrelevant."

Hermione let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

"You know," Malfoy began casually. "Potter really should have known better," he turned away from her and walked towards the bed, undoing his trousers as he did so. He quickly removed them, along with his boxes and socks, and fell back on the bed stark naked. "I mean, do I look like I know anything about tattoos, magically induced or otherwise? Look at my skin, it's flawless," he smirked wickedly.

Hermione was looking alright, and she was inclined to agree with him. She glanced at his manhood briefly before her eyes skittered away in embarrassment. It was really quite absurd to be embarrassed at this point, but alas here she was, blushing like a fool.

"Go on, Granger, have a good look," he encouraged. "You know you want to."

Her eyes flicked back towards him, and she drank in all his glory. Her eyes, again, found his penis, and she inspected it properly for the first time, her curiosity getting the better of her.

Malfoy just lay there, one leg bent at the knee and the other straight out, both arms behind his head. He was the absolute epitome of carefree ease, and she couldn't fathom how he was lying there like that while she scrutinized him. It was ridiculous.

"So, what do you think?" he asked. "I can literally hear your brain working from over here."

"Well," she frowned. "I thought it was bigger than that," Malfoy raised his brow at her. "I mean, I remember it seemed a lot bigger, you know, last time."

Malfoy smirked and reached a hand down to palm himself.

Hermione stared, brown eyes fixated, as he gripped his length firmly in his right hand.

_Holy fucking shit._

She watched him slowly stroke his cock to full hardness, her whole body heating from the inside out as her core pulsed with every beat of her heart.

In no time at all, Malfoy's cock was flushed and standing to attention, long and hard. She literally couldn't take her eyes off him.

"Better?" he asked.

Hermione was speechless.

"Well, don't just stand there," he said. "Take off your clothes."

Her eyes flicked up to meet his, she wanted to see if she could find anything devious there, but all she found was dilated sliver pools filled with pure want and need. She began to undress without another thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't kill me, please. So sorry for ending it here but this chapter was going to be too long otherwise. Also, I really wanted the sex scene to be from Draco's perspective - don't you want to know what he's thinking? ;). Yeah, I think we all do. At least you know what's coming next chapter, or should I say who! *snorts* I know. I know. I hate myself. Thank you for reading. *big hugs*
> 
> Massive thanks to my awesome beta reader, Black_Osmosis!


	8. Chapter 8

Draco continued to lightly stroke his cock as he watched Granger begin to remove her clothes.

Their unexpected conversation about Dark Marks and Death Eaters still lingered somewhere in the back of his mind, and he was finding it quite difficult to shake it.

It was absolutely ridiculous, but he almost felt betrayed by Granger.

Of course she would go straight to bloody Dumbledore if she discovered he was a Death Eater, that was obvious and something he'd always known would happen. So why the buggering hell did he feel like he did?

This was  _Granger,_ for Christ's sake. One of Potter's best friends. Damn straight she would dob him in the second she got a whiff that he was working for the Dark Lord. What had he expected, for her to suddenly drop Potter and be on his side? The notion was ludicrous, to say the least.

He briefly closed his eyes and attempted to dispel the heavy sense of unease he was feeling. This line of thought was stupid and pointless. At the end of the day, Granger was fully immersed in the light, and he was irrevocably lost to the dark. It had always been that way, and that is exactly how it would remain. As long as he remembered that, everything would be alright. Well, as alright as it could be in his situation.

He sighed out loud and rubbed a hand over his face. He needed to get a grip of reality, and while he was at it, perhaps of himself too.

"What's wrong?" Granger asked, looking awkward as she paused halfway through unfastening the buttons on her white blouse.

He stared at her with fathomless, steely eyes, his face giving nothing away. "What's wrong is that you're taking far too long to undress," he told her, his tone light and teasing.

Granger rolled her eyes, a slight smile playing at her lips. "Do you always have to be such an impatient sod?" she asked.

"Yes," he answered plainly, eyes lingering on the lovely mounds of flesh poking out of the top of her sensible white bra. "Now hurry up."

She looked down her nose at him as she shimmied her blouse off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. "Good things come to those who wait," she told him, her tone rich with superiority.

He raised his brow at her. "And you're a  _good thing,_  are you?" he asked quizzically.

"You tell me?" she responded breezily, kicking her shoes off and unzipping her skirt. She pushed it slowly down the length of her legs and deftly removed her socks before straightening again.

"Time will tell," he muttered distractedly, silver eyes sweeping over her from head to toe, pupils dilating at the sight of her in nothing but her underwear. "Take off your bra," he ordered. He was desperate to see her again, and properly this time. He wanted to take his time and study every inch of her luscious body.

He watched her hesitate, and for a moment thought that she was going to refuse him, but then she reached behind her back and unhooked her bra, letting it fall down her arms to join the rest of her clothes on the thick carpet.

Draco's gaze feasted on her full breasts. Circe, but they really were the nicest pair of tits he'd ever seen in his life, he yearned to nibble and suck on the small rosy peaks. As if knowing exactly what he was thinking, her nipples suddenly hardened into perfect little pebbles, basically daring him to taste them.  _Oh, he would. Very soon._

Draco's cock jerked in approval, and he reached down to grip it hard, giving it several rough strokes as his mouth fell open on a silent moan.

In reaction, Granger's whole body flushed - with embarrassment or arousal? He wasn't sure - but either way he liked it. He liked it very much.

"Take off your knickers," he demanded, his voice so low and husky that it sounded foreign even to his own ears.

Granger's cheeks glowed, but she complied anyway. She hooked her thumbs into the thin fabric at her hips and pulled them down. Once she'd stepped out of them, she crossed one leg over the other as she lightly wrapped her arms around her middle and stared at the wall, seemingly unable to look at him.

Draco let go off his cock, and it slapped against his pelvis. He frowned deeply. "Stop it."

Her eyes flicked to his, brows drawing together in confusion. "Stop what?"

"Stop covering yourself up," he told her firmly and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, reaching a hand out to her.

Granger gazed at it before stepping forward and tentatively taking it.

Draco rolled his eyes so hard he nearly disconnected them from their sockets. This wouldn't do, this wouldn't do at all. "Granger, seriously, you have nothing to be embarrassed about, so  _please_  stop whatever this is you're doing, it's unbecoming."

Unbelievably, she blushed even harder, her eyes averting his.

_Fucking hellfire._

Draco knew that when Granger got going she was unstoppable in her quest for pleasure, this was the girl who brazenly grabbed his cock just a few weeks ago, but what stumped him was how she was acting now. Had she seen herself? Draco doubted that she had, otherwise she wouldn't be acting so ridiculous now.

He would have to put a stop to this misplaced shyness, it wasn't doing her any favors and it was completely absurd, given their recent interactions.

Draco stood up and lifted her up before throwing her on the bed, delighting in the way her breasts bounced and jiggled as she landed on the soft duvet.

"Malfoy!" she squealed, giggling.

Draco simply looked down at her, smiling wickedly, as he lowered himself onto the bed and crawled his way up her.

Granger's entire body stiffened and Draco could literally see the panic dancing in her eyes.

_What the actual fuck?_

"Right, that's it. Granger, what the fuck is going on here? Why are you looking at me like I'm trying to reap your soul or something equally preposterous?" he asked, looking utterly perplexed.

"Well, are you?" she asked.

He glanced up towards the heavens to express his suffering. " _Yes_ , that's what I do in my spare time, didn't you know?" he paused before asking. "Are you nervous or something? Because if you are, there's really nothing to be nervous about. I mean, it's not like we haven't done this before," he didn't need to roll his eyes, his tone had enough sarcasm in it to fill the Great Hall.

"Yes, I know that," she whined, covering her face with her hands. "It's just that this time is different. This time we  _planned_  it," as she said it, her face clouded with several emotions he couldn't even begin to decipher. Obviously, some pointless girl emotions that Draco would never understand.

_Witches!_

"So that's why you're acting like you've crawled into bed with the Devil," Hermione gave him a pointed look, but he ignored her. "Would you rather have me ambush you instead? It would be good to know for next time."

"No... Yes...  _No_... I don't know!" she fumbled over her words.

Draco suppressed a groan. Would this woman ever stop overthinking things? Jesus Christ, but it was infuriating, and now, apparently, it was getting in the way of his sex life.

"I'm just all over the place at the minute," she admitted, bringing the back of her hand to her forehead.

"You don't say," he deadpanned, and she smacked him for his troubles.

"This is a lot for me, Malfoy, a little consideration wouldn't go amiss," she chided.

"Merlin's stick. If you're going to be all maudlin, I'm going to kill myself. Please just put me out of  _your_  misery," he complained in his usual dramatic fashion.

Hermione glared at him.

"Look, do you want to do this or not? I'm sick of all this back and forth. One minute you're hot, the next you're cold," he told her plainly. "Quite frankly, it's driving me up the wall. Either you want to shag me or you don't. It's as simple as that."

Draco wasn't quite sure what he'd do if she said she didn't want to shag him anymore, but he'd figure that out later if it came to it. All he knew was that he'd be really pissed off, especially after she'd wasted his time with all that piffle earlier.

"Nothing is simple when it comes to you," she told him somberly.

What the sodding hell was that supposed to mean?

Draco narrowed his eyes. Enough was enough. "Last chance. Yes or no?"

Granger looked up at the ceiling, refusing to look at him.

"I'm not doing this, Granger. I'm not going to play these little games. I have enough on my plate as it is."

Still, she said nothing.

After several moments of waiting, he released a frustrated breath of air. " _Fine_ ," he gritted and made to roll off her.

Hermione's arms whipped out, wrapping tightly around his muscular back. "No, don't go," she forced out. "I'm sorry, I just... Stay, please."

After a moment, Draco stopped resisting and stared down at her.

She let out a small, shaky breath and reached her hand up, running it through his hair several times before pulling him down and kissing him softly.

Draco allowed it but didn't reciprocate right away. He let her kiss him gently, her lips molding against his perfectly as she carefully sucked his bottom lip into her mouth and ran her tongue along the fine grooves.

The longer it went on, the more Draco could feel his resolve slipping. Eventually his lips parted, quite of their own accord, and he moved his mouth against hers ever so slightly.

Hermione, taking full advantage of the opportunity, thrust her tongue into his mouth without a moment's hesitation, evidently trying to prove how much she wanted him to stay. Whether she was trying to prove it to herself or to him, was another matter entirely.

Draco brushed his tongue against hers, except it wasn't in his usual desperate fashion, it was slow and delicate, making it obvious that he wasn't ready to just give in to her. She was a pain in the arse, and he wanted her to know it.

Granger redoubled her efforts - she gripped his face with both hands and proceeded to devour him. She kissed him hard, forcing her tongue into his mouth almost violently, and even went as far as biting his lip and drawing blood, yet he still continued to kiss her like she was made of the finest porcelain. She kissed around his lips and nipped at his jaw, scraping her teeth along the slight roughness of his daily regrowth before attacking his mouth again with fervor.

Draco withstood her assault rather valiantly. He had most of his weight supported on his right arm, and his right hip rested on her inner thigh. That was as far as their body contact went, and he could tell that Granger was getting mighty frustrated with the fact. She continually tried to pull him down on top of her, but he wouldn't give in, not yet. She needed to realize how much she wanted this, then perhaps next time there wouldn't be any hesitation.

After long moments, Granger pulled away and snarled. She gripped his chin in one hand and dug her nails in.

Draco felt them cut into his skin and it bloody hurt, yet he didn't give anything away, he simply looked back at her, face a cool mask of indifference.

"What the hell, Malfoy?" she demanded, eyes flashing with anger. "Why are you doing this? I thought this is want you wanted?"

Draco licked his bottom lip, tasting the coppery tang of his own blood. "What do  _you_  want, Granger?" he asked calmly, ignoring her question.

"What?" she asked, downright incensed. "Isn't that pretty obvious?"

He narrowed his eyes. "What do you want?" he asked again, firmer this time.

She glared at him.

 _"What do you want?"_ he gritted.

"You!" she yelled. "Is that what you wanted to hear?  _I want you_. Are you happy now?"

_Finally._

"It's a start," he told her, and his lips crashed down on hers, devouring her more thoroughly than he ever had before.

Hermione returned the kiss like a starved animal. "You. Are. An.  _Arsehole_." she gasped in between licks of his tongue and nips of his teeth.

Draco gripped a handful of her wild curls and pulled her head back sharply, burying his face in her neck and ravishing it with his lips, teeth, and tongue. As long as she stopped second-guessing whatever was going on here, she could call him whatever she wanted.

Hermione crooned lowly, draping her arms over his shoulders and burying her hands in his hair.

"Your skin tastes so good," he groaned, moving lower to trail the tip of his tongue along her collar bone. He peppered little wet kisses all over her chest and the lovely swell of her breasts before taking one rosy nipple into his mouth and sucking,  _hard_.

Hermione's back arched up off the bed, and her hips bucked uncontrollably, causing her thigh to brush against the sensitive tip of Draco's penis. He groaned around her nipple and teased it between his teeth before moving to the other and doing the same.

" _Oh God_ ," she moaned.

Draco continued his path down her body, kissing the soft skin between her ribcage and stopping briefly at her belly button to dip his tongue inside and swirl it around. He then licked a wet trail down to her pubic hair as he ran his hands gently up the inside of her legs, gripping her inner thighs and spreading them wide.

Hermione simultaneously stiffened and gasped. " _Malfoy_ ," she flushed, trying to force her legs closed, but Draco had already wedged himself between them and was staring down at her almost reverently. "What are you doing?  _Don't look,_ " she cringed quite pointlessly.

Oh, it was too late for that, Draco was already drinking in the sight of her pussy - and what a lovely sight it was, and just mere inches from his face. So many different thoughts were racing through his mind, but only one word seemed to stick out among the others. Beautiful.  _Beautiful?_  He had never thought of a vagina as beautiful before, but he couldn't deny that Granger's was just that. Everything was tight and neatly tucked away, and she was glistening in a way that begged him to taste her.

"Malfoy," she squeaked, covering her face in embarrassment. "Is this necessary?"

"Um, yes, it is," he answered. "And trust me, you'll be in full agreement once I'm finished with you," he reached up and snatched her hands away from her face. "Stop that and look at me."

Hermione gazed down at him, looking like she wanted a black hole to appear and swallow her whole.

"It's alright. Calm down, you will like this. I promise," he gazed back at her and began to slowly lower his head, his silver eyes never leaving hers.

"What are you doing?" she asked, panicked.

Draco paused and licked his lips. "I'm going to taste you," he told her plainly, his mouth descending on her clit. He parted his lips and latched on to her little bud, sucking it gently into his mouth before flicking his tongue and swirling it around.

Hermione's eyes rolled to the back of her head, and her mouth fell open. " _Holy_   _shit!_ " she groaned thickly.

Draco licked her from entrance to clit and black again, humming at the flavor that exploded on his tongue. It was like her skin, but more intense, with an undoubtedly earthy undertone and a slightly sweet, slightly tart, finish. He simply couldn't get enough of it.

He buried his whole face into her, breathing in her intoxicating scent as his lips and tongue searched every inch of her core, learning all the places that made her twitch, sigh or outright moan.

"Oh my god,  _oh my god_ , that feels so good," she told him, digging her fingers into his hair and spreading her legs wider.

Draco thrust his tongue inside her tightness several times, reveling in her cries for ' _more'_ and yells of _'yes'_  before replacing it with two fingers. He quickly found her little bundle of nerves and pressed and rubbed his fingertips against them, over and over again, all whilst brushing and flicking her little bud with his tongue.

Hermione let out a low keening sound and gasped as she lifted her hips, pressing herself more fully against his face. " _Fuck_ , don't stop," she gritted. "I'm close.  _So close_. _Aaaah_."

All Draco had to do was twist his fingers and suck her clit into his mouth, and just like that she was yelling out his name on a horse cry, her legs shaking and her body convulsing.

His mouth flooded with her juices and he closed his eyes and hummed, lapping them up.

After one last lick - which nearly ended in him losing his head because Granger's pussy was apparently too sensitive for such attention and she slammed her legs closed on either side of his face - Draco dragged his lips up the length of her body and covered her mouth with his. He felt her flinch, probably shocked by the taste of herself on his lips, but she soon melted into the kiss and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"That was..." she broke off, staring up at him, clearly lost for words.

Draco groaned and cupped her left breast in his hand. "I need to be inside you," he told her huskily, eyes dark and wild. "I need to feel you around my cock."

Hermione stroked her right hand down his bare back and took his cock in her left hand, guiding it to her entrance.

Draco stared down into her brandy-coloured eyes as he felt the tip of his cock slide against her wetness - it felt like silk, and it was  _heaven_.

" _Fuck_ ," he breathed, and in a moment of uncontrollable need, he griped both of her wrists in his hands, pining them above her head, and thrust into her in one quick,  _deep_  motion.

Hermione groaned, wrapping her legs around his hips, urging him on.

"Shit. You're so wet and so  _tight_ ," he moaned and began moving in and out of her slowly.

There was nothing quite like the feel of her slick walls squeezing him from all sides, and absurdly he couldn't help but wonder why that was. What was so different about Granger that she could make him feel this way? A way no other girl had managed to make him feel thus far. Perhaps it was because she was forbidden? A risk? The Prince of Slytherin shagging Gryffindor's Princess. It sounded wrong, even in his head.

Granger bit her bottom lip, drawing his attention to her luscious mouth, and he leaned down and kissed her deeply.

"Go faster," she breathed.

Draco's cock pulsed at her words, and he released her wrists, grabbing her left leg and hooking it over his shoulder. He kissed the inside of her knee fleetingly before he began pounding into, fast and hard.

Hermione cried out in ecstasy, her nails raking the skin on his back in a way which - he was quickly leaning - was quite usual for her when she was this lost in passion. "So  _good_ ," she groaned deeply.

Draco braced himself on his hands and spread his knees wide as he continued his punishing assault. He could feel his release fast approaching and reached down with one hand to rub Granger's sensitive nub with his thumb.

As if he'd pressed a button, Hermione's walls instantly clamped down around him as her second orgasm tore through her - quite unexpectedly - if her facial expressions were anything to go by.

Draco turned his head and bit into the soft flesh of her inner thigh and groaned brokenly as he stilled, his cock jerking deep inside her, and his come squirting and coating her thoroughly.

 _Holy shit._ He came so hard his head was spinning.

After allowing himself a moment to catch his breath, he pulled out of her and fell on his back next to her on the bed.

They both stared up at the ceiling for what felt like a decade, not saying a word to each other, the tension thick and palpable.

Draco had several comments on the tip of his tongue, all sarcastic and mocking in nature. He wisely decided to keep his trap shut. Why did he find it so difficult to be nice? Or just normal, even? All he had to do was say something one would typically say after having just shagged another person. It didn't necessarily have to be  _nice_ , just not cunt-ish. If he opened his mouth now, he knew he was only going to piss her off - he tended to do that a lot. The only time she was ever happy with him was when his cock was inside her. He sighed internally and was about to voice one of his damning comments anyway, just wanting to break the awkward silence -  _to hell with the consequences -_ but then Granger got up and began moving around the room. He assumed to gather her clothes and get dress, but he wasn't sure, he didn't bother to look and find out.

It wasn't until he heard her clear her throat that he did turn his head and look at her.

"Same time on Saturday?" she asked offhandedly, like she didn't care either way.

Jesus, they were a right pair, weren't they?

"Sure," he nodded, and her shoulders visibly relaxed. She gave him a small smile.

Draco mentally patted himself on the back for saying the right thing for once. He got up and pulled his boxers on, and then his trousers, before moving over to the settee to collect the rest of his clothes. When he turned around he was surprised to find Granger still standing there.

"I meant to say this earlier, but we got side-tracked," she began, watching him intently as he buttoned up his shirt and pulled his jumper over his head. "We really need to be careful and smart about this. What we're doing is dangerous."

"You don't say."

"We can't just meet up in any old place, remember, Harry is watching. Here is fine because this room doesn't show up on the map -"

"It doesn't?" Draco asked. He had wondered. This was good to know.

"No, but he can see everywhere else," she sighed. "Look, I will talk to him about you, now that I know for certain that you're not a Death Eater. Hopefully he will accept it and give it rest, but I can't promise anything. He's very stubborn when he wants to be."

Draco rolled his eyes, Potter was more than just stubborn. He was the bane of Draco's entire existence.

"You know," she continued. "We are really lucky that he didn't catch us in the prefects bathroom, that was really stupid of us, it can't happen like that again, which is another reason why I thought it best that we stick to specific nights of the week."

Draco couldn't help but agree. "We'll stick to this room and empty classrooms in future, surely he won't watch me on the map when he knows I'm with you working on our " _project_ "," he smirked. "But if he does happen to look, he will see us in a classroom and think nothing of it. You can tell him that we use the Room of Requirement to mimic caves with old Rune etchings so that we can decipher them."

"Would the room do that?" she asked, intrigued, looking way too excited for Draco's liking.

"I don't bloody know, but just tell Potter that, he won't question it, he's an idiot."

Hermione sighed. "Yes, alright. Harry's meddling really is infuriating at times," she confessed.

Draco sneered. "It must be one of his trademarks, like his god-awful hair and that hideous scar."

"Malfoy," she warned. "Don't."

Draco raised his brows innocently, and she gave him a look like she wasn't buying it.

"Why don't you just steal this stupid map of his?" he asked. "That would put a stop to his interfering.  _A little,_ anyway," he added as an afterthought. "It would give us freedom to shag when  _and wherever_ we feel like."

"I can't just steal his map," Hermione tutted.

"Then ask to borrow it and just don't give it back," Draco shrugged.

"I can't do that," she scoffed. "Anyway, he will want to know why I want to use it, and then I'll have to lie again," she scowled at the idea.

"Oh, boo-fucking-hoo. If you can't sodding lie to him, then just tell him to mind his own fucking business. You don't have to tell him  _everything_ ,"  _bloody Gryffindors!_  He shook his head.

"But I do tell him everything -" Draco gave her a pointed look. "Except this,  _obviously_ ," she rolled her eyes. "If I suddenly start being all secretive and refuse to answer his questions, then he will get suspicious."

"Jesus Christ, he's already suspicious! What's a little more going to do except give him a hard-on?"

"Ew," Hermione scrunched up her face in disgust.

"Oh, he gets off on it, and you know it," he narrowed his eyes at her, daring her to deny it. She didn't. "He's a cynical bastard, and nothing you say or do is going to change that."

"There's a reason he is like that!" she defended her friend. "He's been through a lot."

"Haven't we fucking all!" Draco argued and then groaned, rubbing his face with both hands. This was getting them nowhere. "Fine, whatever, do it your way. I'm not going to try and understand the workings of you lot. I'd die of old age."

Hermione sighed. "Don't worry about it. I will sort Harry out one way or another, just leave it with me. I'll see you on Saturday," she turned and made to leave.

Draco snorted. She seemed very sanguine for someone who had the mammoth task of trying to convince the queen of paranoia.  _Potter_.

He reached out, grabbed her arm and spun her around, his lips caressing hers with a single kiss. "See you Saturday, Granger," he breathed and then stepped around her, heading for the exit. Just before the door slammed close behind him, he heard her let out a deep shaky breath.

Draco couldn't help it, he grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, massive thanks to Black_Osmosis for beta reading this chapter! :D


	9. Chapter 9

Hermione's talk with Harry went about as well as Professor Lockhart's attempt to round up the Cornish pixies in 2nd year. In other words,  _abysmal_.

Now, not only was she not talking to Ron, but she wasn't talking to Harry either.

To be honest, she wasn't quite sure what happened. It started out well enough. She had walked up to Harry first thing Thursday morning and asked if she could talk with him privately. They had both found a quiet, secluded corner in the Gryffindor common room, and Hermione had proceeded to tell him a made-up story of how she had come to discover that Malfoy didn't bear the Dark Mark.

Simple, right? Hermione thought so too. Of course she had expected Harry to resist a little at first, but she had been certain that she would be able to talk him round.

Quite frankly, she had never been more wrong about anything in her entire life.

Harry, completely and utterly, lost his shit.

Hermione still couldn't quite believe it. In fact, thinking back, it was mostly kind of a blur. All she really remembered was that he had yelled -  _extremely loud -_  how it was impossible that Malfoy wasn't a Death Eater and that she obviously hadn't been looking properly. Luckily, Hermione had managed to throw up a quick  _privacy_  charm before the packed common room could hear his damning words. Oh, had she been  _pissed!_ She had gotten right up in his face and asked him exactly what he'd meant by that.

_"You must be blind!" Harry yelled. "Here," he held his glasses out to her. "You clearly need these more than I do."_

_Hermione scoffed. "I am not blind! Do you really think I could miss something as big and ugly as a Dark Mark? You're being ridiculous," she spat._

_"He is a Death Eater, Hermione! Why can't you see it?" Harry asked, looking as though he couldn't comprehend a single thing she was saying._

_"I can't see something that isn't there, Harry," she answered hotly. "You have a serious problem. You are deluded and you are **obsessed** -"_

_"How can you say that?" he asked, cutting her off, his tone heavy with incredulity. "What the fuck is going on with you?" He hissed, shaking his head. "This isn't you. He must have bewitched you or something."_

_"God, Harry!" she exclaimed. "Will you listen to yourself? I'm not bewitched, and Draco Malfoy is not a Death Eater. Get the fuck OVER IT! I'm bored of listening to this shit -"_

_"Then don't fucking listen!" Harry bellowed, seething. "In fact, I don't **want**  you to listen. You just go ahead and work on your little project with Malfoy. In fact, fuck it, why not just become best friends with him while you're at it? Whatever you decide to do, I don't care! Just don't come running back to me when you find out it's all been a lie and he's a filthy  **Death Eater**!"_

_Hermione gasped, hurt clawing at her chest, and Harry's enraged expression faltered for just a split second. "Thank you, Harry. Duly noted," she blinked rapidly._

_Harry sighed explosively. "You're a fool, Hermione. I thought you were smarter than this."_

_"I am smarter," she gritted, holding her head high. "You're the fool Harry. You are letting prejudice get in the way. You're no better than them," she turned and walked away before he could verbally lash her for comparing him to his enemies._

On a few instances in the days to follow, she had found herself almost walking up to Harry with the sole intent of righting things between them, but then she would remember what he'd said and think -  _fuck him_. He clearly wasn't bothered about the two of them not speaking, otherwise he would have tried to talk to her by now, or at the very least he would have made eye contact with her on one of the numerous occasions she'd tried to get his attention over the last few days.

She would be lying if she said she wasn't upset with the whole debacle, because she was -  _very_. She just wasn't prepared to let Harry win. It wasn't fair. He was being a bigoted tosser, and until he realized it, she wasn't willing to speak to him.

Instead, Hermione had busied herself with homework and Prefect duties. On Friday night she even hung out with Ginny, something she hadn't done in months, and it was really nice. She told the youngest Weasley all about her issues with Ron and Harry and why they weren't talking. Of course, she'd left out the part where she was sleeping with Draco Malfoy and stuck to the "studying" cover-up story.

Ginny listened without comment or judgment, and tutted and hummed in all the right places, just like a good girlfriend should. After Hermione finished, she simply scoffed and said. "Boys are dicks."

Hermione couldn't agree more.

* * *

On Saturday morning, Hermione sat curled up on one of the armchairs in front of the fire in the Gryffindor common room, pretending to read her book. She was waiting for Ron and Harry to come down from their dormitory, so that she could sneak up there and pilfer her own Potions notes back from Ron. She had already asked him to give them back, more than once, but she was met with the same, "I will,  _later,_ " each time. The cheek of him was unreal, he didn't want to talk to her because of his stupid bint of a girlfriend, yet he still wanted to copy her notes. He could go and jump in the Black Lake.  _Wanker_. Hopefully the giant squid would eat him.

At that moment Harry and Ron descended the stairs into the common room, both going silent as they noticed Hermione sitting there. At least she assumed that's why they went silent - she couldn't say for sure as she didn't bother to look up at them.

They both quickly exited the common room, presumably to go down for breakfast, and as soon as the portrait closed behind them, Hermione jumped up and jogged up the stairs to their shared dormitory.

She wrinkled her nose as she entered, the place looked like an industrial dryer full of clothes had exploded all over the place. It was a disaster zone.

Hermione made her way over to Ron's trunk and knelt down before it as she began rummaging through the contents. It wasn't until her fingers brushed against something horrifyingly sticky that she remembered she was a Witch.

"Accio Potions notes," she commanded, pointing her wand inside the vile trunk.

Two sets of notes came flying out to land neatly in her outstretched hand, one on top of the other. She frowned down at them and realized that the second lot of notes were the ones that she had lent to Ron over 3 months ago.

_Git._

Hermione stood up, brushing herself off, and was about to leave when she noticed what looked like a large wad of parchment sticking out from beneath Harry's pillow. She stared at the familiar discoloration of the parchment, her heart thudding wildly in her chest. She bit her lip nervously and glanced at the door, which was slightly ajar, as a small group of students passed by it, laughing and joking with one another. Once they had passed, she shook her head harshly and berated herself for her sinful thoughts, and then she left the room.

She didn't get halfway down the stairs before she was turning around and sprinting her way back up them. She barged into Harry and Ron's dormitory, almost troll-like, and tripped over a stray shoe as she attempted to quickly navigate the landmines of clothing, footwear, and other paraphernalia. She snatched the blank parchment from under Harry's pillow and stuffed it under her t-shirt, glancing towards the heavens as she begged for forgiveness.

Hermione didn't stop running until she made it all the way back to her dormitory. She flung open her own trunk and proceeded to empty the entire contents onto the floor. Once it was empty, she placed her stolen item at the bottom and layered several protection and secrecy charms over the top of it, and then reloaded her trunk with all her belongings. Hands shaking, she slammed it closed and locked it.

For the rest of the day she sat on her bed and contemplated what she had done and, more importantly, whom she had done it for. All the while, Harry's words continually echoing in her mind.

_What the fuck is going on with you? This isn't you._

He was right.

* * *

At 8:45pm, Hermione got up from her bed and made her way down the stairs to the common room. God, she was starving, she hadn't eaten anything all day. Upon entering the common room, she immediately spotted Harry, Ron and Lavender sat in their usual corner - what used to also be  _her_  usual corner. Ron and Lavender were attempting to suck each other's faces off, nothing new there, whilst Harry pretended not to notice, his eyes trained on his magazine.

"Hey Hermione," Ginny called out.

Harry's head turned towards her so fast she was surprised she didn't hear his neck crack. They locked eyes, Harry's sharp and narrowed, Hermione's large and guilt-ridden.

_Shit, did he know?_

After a moment he turned back to his magazine and didn't bother to look at her again.

She sighed in relief.

"Hermione?" Ginny sang, sashaying over to her. The red-head glanced towards the corner where Hermione was staring and scoffed. "Get a fucking room, Ron!" she bellowed, and then turned back to Hermione. "Ugh, it's disgusting," she gagged.

Hermione forced out a laugh, but it was weak and altogether unconvincing.

Ginny gazed at her knowingly. "Want to hang out?" she asked.

Hermione smiled at the offer. "I would love to, but I already have plans."

"Oh?" Ginny smirked, eyebrow raised.

"I'm studying," Hermione rushed to affirm, cheeks heating slightly at the veiled insinuation.

Ginny looked at the large clock on the wall. "It's a bit late to be studying on a Saturday night, don't you think?" clearly she didn't believe Hermione.

"Yes, well, my partner is a difficult sod. I had no choice," she partly lied. She did have a choice, but he  _was_  a difficult sod, so she hadn't been lying about that.

"Oh," Ginny repeated, sounding disappointed this time. "Wait," she grinned suddenly. "You're not meeting  _Malfoy_ , are you?" she asked, eyes glittering mischievously.

Hermione eyed her suspiciously. "Yes, why?" Nothing good ever came from that look. Where was she going with this?

Ginny blinked innocently. "No reason."

Hermione groaned. "Come on, out with it. I'm not buying that sweet, butter-wouldn't-melt act. I know you."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Ginny flicked her long red locks over her shoulder.

"Ginny," she warned.

"Fine, I'll say it," Ginny sighed. "Malfoy's hot."

Hermione had to reach out and grab the back of an armchair for support. " _What_?" she asked faintly.

"Oh don't look at me like that," Ginny rolled her eyes. "You can't tell me that you haven't noticed?"

Of course she had bloody noticed, that was one of the reasons why she was currently shagging him. "I haven't," she lied smoothly, she even managed to make it sound like the notion offended her. Kudos to her and her usually atrocious acting skills.

"Well, let me tell you,  _he is_ ," Ginny told her unambiguously. "He's like  _extremely_  hot," she continued. "He's a complete dish -"

"OK, that's enough talk about Malfoy," Hermione cut her off.

Ginny grinned at her friend's obvious discomfort, only she had no idea that she was reading it completely wrong. "Tonight, when you're studying, just take a good look at him. You'll soon know what I'm talking about," she winked. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Hermione stared after her, trying to get her head around the fact that her best-girlfriend thought that her secret lover was  _hot_.

After a few moments she glanced at the clock.

Bloody hell, she was late!

* * *

Hermione skidded around the corner on the 7th floor and barreled right into Malfoy, almost knocking him over. "Oh my god," she gasped, out of breath. Malfoy gripped her by the shoulders to steady her. "Sorry, I'm late. G... Gin... Ginny," she broke off and bent over to catch her breath.

Malfoy pressed his lips together to suppress a reluctant grin. "Granger, you're ten minutes late," he told her crossly.

Hermione straightened up and stared at him. He wasn't really pissed off with her, was he? After all, he had been late the last time they'd met up.

Malfoy took in her worried look and smirked. "Don't worry, you'll just have to make it up to me," he husked and pulled her flush against him, his mouth swiftly finding hers.

Hermione's stomach chose that exact moment to let out a low and ridiculously long grumble.

Malfoy's roaming hands paused in their explorations, and his lips left hers as he stepped back to look at her, tilting his head to the side questioningly. "What was that?" he asked.

Hermione's face flamed. "My stomach," she confessed, and as if to prove it, her stomach let out another growl.

Malfoy raised his brow.

"I haven't eaten today," she admitted. "I'm starving."

He tutted disapprovingly. "Well, that just won't do," he said, grabbing her hand as he proceeded to pull her along the corridor, away from the Room of Requirement.

Hermione glanced back at it and frowned. "Wait, where are we going?" she asked. "You're going the wrong way."

"No I'm not. We are going to get you some food," he glanced back at her and gripped her hand tighter as he felt her sudden resistance.

"Oh,  _no_ ," Hermione began to panic. "Please don't, it's fine," she insisted. "I'll get something later."

Why did the thought of eating in front of him make her feel nauseous?

"I don't think so," he argued. "You'll eat something now. I won't have you passing out on me. Plus, you're going to need the energy," he looked at her, eyes heated and intense.

 _Good lord._ If he kept looking at her like that, she would pass out right now.

"Malfoy, I..." she broke off, not knowing how to dissuade him. It was probably a losing battle, stubborn git that he was.

"What?" he asked, letting go of her hand as they reached the stairs. He began jogging down them, and Hermione had no choice but to follow. The castle was quiet, but there could still be stray students wondering around, so they would have to be careful. "What's wrong? Are you worried about Potter seeing us on the map?" he sneered as he said it. "Why doesn't he just occupy his time with rimming Weasley instead? Everyone knows they're both bent."

Hermione rolled her eyes at the pure Malfoy-ness of the comment. "Don't be silly, they're not gay," she sighed, stopping as the staircase changed positions, giving them a much quicker route down to the ground floor. "Besides, Ron would have to detach himself from Lavender long enough for Harry to do the deed, and I'm quite certain that's virtually impossible at this point."

Malfoy shot her an amused look. "True. Also, Potter is far too busy wanking all over his map anyway."

"Ew," Hermione scrunched up her face in disgust. "Please don't put that image in my mind, I have touched that thing, you know."

Malfoy's brows almost disappeared into his hairline.

"I mean the _map_ , Jesus," she flushed. "Stop being so crude."

He smirked as they stepped off the Grand Staircase and walked across the entrance hall towards the stone steps that led to the corridor where the kitchen was located.

"Anyway," Hermione continued casually. "Harry won't be doing anything with his map. Not until I see fit, that is," she glanced at Malfoy to gauge his reaction.

Was it wise to tell him that she had stolen Harry's map?

Malfoy paused mid-step and turned to look at her, his face expressionless. She half-admired and half-hated, how well he could hide his emotions. It was extremely frustrating at times.

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" he asked, silver eyes narrowing slightly.

"I don't know," she pushed past him on the steps and peeped around the corner at the bottom to make sure no Hufflepuffs were lurking around - this was their territory after all. "What do you think I'm saying?"

Malfoy followed her as she began walking along the brightly lit corridor, her fingers trailing along the roughened surface of the stone wall. "Well, it sounds to me like you've procured yourself a map," he said lowly, stepping up closely behind her as she stopped in front of a painting of a bowl of fruit. He pressed his chest to her back and snaked his left arm around her middle.

"That's exactly what I've done," Hermione confirmed, turning her head slowly towards him.

Malfoy reached up with his free hand and gently brushed her hair to one side, burying his face into the crook of her neck and breathing in deeply. "But I thought you couldn't steal it?" he murmured into her skin, remembering their conversation from Wednesday.

His breath tickled her neck, sending shivers down her spine.

"So did I," she admitted, the guilt chewing a fresh hole into her gut.

Sensing her melancholy, he reached out and tickled the pear, causing it to giggle and morph into a green door handle. He turned it and held the door open.

Hermione stepped away from him and entered the ginormous kitchen, her eyes sweeping over five long tables, identical to the ones up in the Great Hall.

Not a single house-elf was in sight, and Hermione wasn't sure what she should do. She couldn't just go rummaging through the cupboards for food. It was rude.

Malfoy, clearly not having the same misgivings, strode past her and opened several cupboards, pulling things out of them like he knew the place inside out.

Hermione watched as he lit the stove and grabbed a saucepan, filling it with water and setting it on top of the flame to boil. He began chopping up garlic, onions, tomatoes and peppers and threw them all into a frying pan to cook. The smell that instantly filled the kitchen was absolutely divine and in response, Hermione's stomach clenched painfully.

She slowly walked over to him, pinching herself harshly to make sure she wasn't dreaming.

Was Draco Malfoy seriously making her dinner?

What sort of insanity was this?

Malfoy dropped some pasta into the boiling water before adding a few pinches of salt, and then opened a jar of homemade pasta sauce. He poured the contents into the frying pan, along with the other ingredients, and began stirring.

"Can I help?" Hermione asked, coming up beside him.

"No," he answered, stirring the pasta. "It's almost finished. Hopefully you like pasta, because if not, tough shit."

Hermione laughed. "Pasta is great, thank you," she lifted herself up onto the counter top and continued to watch him work. "It's so weird seeing you cook," she confessed.

Weird was an understatement. It was alien-like.

"Why?" he frowned, dipping a spoon into the sauce and tasting it. He scrunched up his face. He added salt and pepper, stirred it, and then tried it again. With a nod of his head he extinguished the flame.

"Um, because you're  _you_  and it's just weird," she told him. "I guess I just assumed you wouldn't be able to cook."

"Well, I'm glad I'm able prove you wrong. Nothing pleases me more," he drained the pasta into the sink and then added it to the sauce. "Besides, it's only pasta. It's not exactly a culinary masterpiece."

"You seem to know your way around the kitchen. Do you come here often?"

Malfoy retrieved a bowl and dished a heaping load of pasta into it. "Sometimes," he answered vaguely. He sprinkled some Parmesan over the top and then handed her the bowl with a fork. "Eat up."

Hermione took the bowl shyly. "Aren't you eating?"

"No. Unlike you, I ate breakfast, lunch, and dinner like a good boy," he quipped, waving his wand and sending both pans skipping over to the sink to begin washing themselves.

Hermione stared down at the bowl of pasta - it looked mouth-wateringly delicious. She picked up the fork and stirred the melted cheese into the pasta, wondering how on earth she was going to proceed.

_Swirl fork in pasta. Lift fork to mouth. Open mouth. Eat. Simple._

Except it wasn't. Why was this so hard?

She glanced up at Malfoy and found him staring at her like she was a peculiar creature that he'd never seen before. "What's wrong?" he asked. "Don't worry, I haven't poisoned it or anything," he rolled his eyes.

Her heart skipped a beat and began to thud loudly in her chest. "Oh, _no_ , I don't think you've poisoned it," she rushed to assure him.

"OK," he said slowly. "Well, you have to at least  _try it_  before you decide it tastes like shit and refuse to eat it."

Hermione opened her mouth… and then closed it. She opened it a second time before panicking and closing it again.

_Jesus H Christ. What the hell was going on with her?_

Malfoy tilted his head at her in an assessing manner, and Hermione could only imagine what he was thinking. He probably thought she was barmy.

He stepped towards her and took the fork out of her hand, swirling it in the pasta before taking a huge mouthful. Hermione stared at his mouth, his  _lovely,_ perfect mouth, as he chewed methodically and then swallowed. "It tastes fine to me," he told her. "But if you don't want to eat it, then whatever," he shrugged.

Not wanting to be rude, Hermione picked up the fork and took a delicate mouthful. The flavor that burst in her mouth was out of this world, and she hummed in deep satisfaction.

Malfoy smirked. "See. It's not that bad, is it?"

Hermione looked at him. "I think it's the best thing I've ever tasted," she told him sincerely. And it was. She was so hungry that even bread and butter would have passed for red velvet cake.

Malfoy chuckled. "Wow, you really must be starving if you think that."

Hermione devoured the whole thing in less than a few minutes, her nervousness about eating in front of him trailing way behind her need to satiate her hunger. Once she'd scraped the last bit of sauce from the bottom of the bowl, she jumped off the counter top and took it to the sink. "Thank you -" she muttered awkwardly, "- for making me dinner."

He scratched the back of his head, brow puckering. He looked just as uncomfortable as she did. "Don't mention it," he cleared his throat. The way he said it was like he  _really_  didn't want her to mention it.  _Ever again_.

She was more than fine with that.

"You know what would be perfect right about now?" he asked. "Some cake."

"You bake too?" she exclaimed, eyes bugging out of her head.

Malfoy scoffed. "In your dreams, Granger. No, I don't bloody bake. What do you take me for?"

Hermione giggled at the thought of Malfoy in an apron with flour smudged on his cheek. It was kind of hot, if she was being honest, especially if he was naked beneath said apron.

_God, what was wrong with her tonight?_

"Well,  _I_  can't bake if that's what you're thinking," she crossed her arms.

"I'm not," Draco assured her, "but it's good to know there is something that Miss Goody-two-shoes can't do," he teased.

She smacked him playfully. "Oh, shut up."

He caught her hand and linked his fingers through hers, causing a swarm of butterflies to erupt in her belly. "Come, I've got something to show you."

Hermione allowed him to pull her along, he seemed to like doing that. "Where are we going now?"

"Patience is a virtue," he told her and tugged her around a hidden corner that she had never noticed before now.

Hermione gasped. "Oh. My. God," she deadpanned.

In front of her was a huge glass cabinet filled with every cake, muffin, brownie and slice imaginable.

"Yep," Malfoy agreed. "If you tell anyone about this, I will have to kill you."

After deliberating for far too long on which delicacy to consume, they ended up picking four and agreed to share them - that way they'd get to try more flavors.

They each grabbed a spoon and then sat at the nearest table.

Malfoy dove in first, going straight for the chocolate cake. He groaned deeply, the sound travelling right to Hermione's core with added force.

She crossed her legs tightly and watched as his tongue flicked out to lick his lips.

Taking heed of Ginny's suggestion, she looked Malfoy over, taking in every little nuance of his face.

He wasn't perfect, but then again, who was? He was bloody gorgeous though,  _absolutely_. She liked his eyes the best, they were so striking in their icy-paleness. His lips were lovely too, an enviable shape with a perfect cupid's bow. Oh and his teeth, God, if her parents saw his teeth, they would surely swoon.

"What?" he asked, when she continued to stare at him. "Do I have something around my mouth?" he used his thumb and forefinger to wipe over his lips.

Hermione flushed. "No, sorry," she shook her head. "That cake just looks really good."

"It is," he told her. "Why don't you try it?"

Shit, she needed to get a grip of herself. Perhaps if she struck up a conversation with him, she would stop acting like a complete lunatic. What would they talk about though? She had no idea what to say to him. She reached over and scooped a piece of the chocolate cake onto her spoon and ate it. As promised, it was delicious.

"Harry and I aren't talking," she suddenly blurted.

OK, so she hadn't meant to say  _that_.

"I gathered as much," Malfoy said, leaning over to try the lemon cheesecake. "I haven't seen you with him for the last few days. I take it your talk didn't go quite as well as you thought it would."

"No, it did not," she grumbled. She was half-expecting him to ask what Harry had said, but he didn't, he just continued to sample the cake.

"I'm not speaking to Ron either," she confided, wondering why she was telling him any of this.

"I already knew that," he licked his spoon clean and placed it on the edge of the plate. "Are you still jealous of Lavender Brown?" he asked curiously.

"Malfoy, I don't like Ron like that," she gave him a hard look, trying to convey how much she meant it.

He squinted his eyes, assessing her thoroughly. "Perhaps not anymore, but you did at one point."

She frowned and chose not to acknowledge that particular comment. "They are both being complete arseholes at the minute."

"They're  _always_  arseholes," Malfoy sniffed loftily. "Did it ever occur to you that maybe you've just been blind to it and you're only now seeing the truth?"

Hermione sighed. This wasn't a good idea talking to Malfoy about Harry and Ron.

"Honestly," Malfoy continued. "I don't know why you're so bothered. You're better off without them."

"They're my friends," she frowned, wondering what he meant by his comment, but not wanting to ask him. You never really knew what you were going to get with Malfoy, and she didn't want him putting something ridiculous in her head that she wouldn't be able to get out again.

"Find some new ones," he shrugged as if it was the easiest thing in the world to do. Perhaps he thought it was?... but something told her that wasn't true.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Just like that?"

"Just like that," he confirmed, looking rather unsympathetic.

"What about your friends?" she asked, sitting back and crossing her arms. "Would you just drop them if they did or said something momentarily stupid?"

"My friends aren't stupid," he divulged in a mocking conspiratorial tone.

"Crabbe and Goyle aren't stupid?" she scoffed. "That's a lie if I've ever heard one."

"Crabbe and Goyle aren't my friends," he said lowly, picking at a splinter of wood on the table. "They are more like acquaintances."

 _'Or henchmen,'_ Hermione thought to herself.

"Really. Who are your friends then?" she asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

Malfoy glanced at her, looking as if he didn't want to answer. "Blaise and Theo," he eventually responded, if not a little reluctantly.

She nodded. That made sense, she had seen him with them often enough. "Can I ask you something?"

"You just did," he informed her in a smooth tone.

"Something else, then?"

"You just did," he grinned widely.

"Malfoy," she warned, the corners of her mouth twitching.

"You can ask, but it doesn't mean I'm going to answer," he reached out and ran his finger lightly over the back of her right hand that was splayed flat on the table, drawing little invisible patterns on it.

She swallowed against the feelings it evoked, even though the gesture was simple and most likely meaningless. "Why don't you gel your hair back anymore?" OK, so that wasn't what she had meant to ask him at all.

He snorted. "You're asking me about my hair?"

"Yes, why not?"

"You're strange," he took his hand back, and Hermione immediately felt the loss of his touch. "I don't know. I grew out of it, I suppose," he ran his fingers roughly through the platinum strands.

"You cut it shorter this year, too," she commented. "I thought you were going to grow it out like your father."

At the mention of his father Malfoy's expression turned cold. "Yes, well. You were wrong.  _Again_ ," he added, and she knew he was referring to how she'd been wrong when she'd assumed he couldn't cook.

Hermione cleared her throat - his father was apparently a touchy subject - which,  _really_ , she should have expected. She searched for something to say that would lighten the mood. "Do you dye your hair?" She almost slapped her palm against her forehead.

Malfoy gave her an inscrutable look. "No, Granger, I don't dye my hair. What sort of ridiculous question is that?"

"It's not ridiculous," she argued, even though she knew damn well that it was. "Your hair is not normal."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I mean," she floundered around, trying to think how she could word it without sounding foolish, it was hopeless, and in the end she gave up. "It's just so...  _blond_."

"Thank you for that stimulating analysis," he deadpanned. "Do you have any other inane questions about my hair? Perhaps you'd like to know which shampoo I use?"

Hermione couldn't help but laugh. He was right, of course. She had no idea why she was blabbering on about his hair. God, she was a mess today. "No, it's probably something ludicrously expensive," she pursed her lips.

He smirked, and they lapsed into a brief comfortable silence.

"You have something on your face," Malfoy told her a few moments later.

"What?" she sat up straight. "Where?"

"Here," he pointed to his chin to indicate where it was.

Hermione scrubbed her hand across her chin and then looked at him expectantly. "Is it gone?" Malfoy shook his head, and she scrubbed at it again. "What about now?"

He shook his head again, and she sighed. "Here, I'll get it," he offered and leaned closer to her.

Hermione closed the space between them and tilted her head back, giving him easier access. It wasn't until she felt something thick and sticky smear across her cheek, mouth, and chin, that she realized it had all been a ruse.

She sucked in a shocked breath and stared at Malfoy in disbelief.

Malfoy tutted and pulled his bottom lip into his mouth in an attempt to hide his smile. "Oh no, now it's everywhere," he told her, eyes shining in a way she had never seen before.

"Malfoy! I cannot believe you just did that," she tried to glare at him, but it was impossible when he was looking at her like that.

"I didn't do anything," he laughed lightly and held his hands up in surrender. "I was trying to help."

"Yeah, s _ure_ ," she licked her lips, tasting creamy custard.  _Yum_.

"Hey," he gripped her face in his hand and pulled her bottom lip down with his thumb. "I said I'd get it," he breathed and leaned down slowly, flicking his tongue out to lick the custard from her lips.

Hermione's mouth opened on impulse, her tongue snaking out to meet his. God, she wanted him. She wanted him so bad it was almost painful. Without putting too much thought into it, she pressed herself even closer to him, but quickly realized that it wasn't enough, she need  _more_. Bringing her leg up, she twisted her body around and straddled his lap.

Malfoy hummed in encouragement, running his palms up the outside of her thighs. He gripped her arse in both hands and pulled her down onto him.

Hermione let out a deep cry at the feel of his hardness against her core. "Malfoy," she moaned, digging her fingers into his hair.

He started to rut against her as he began to place open mouth kisses along her jaw, on her cheek, around her mouth, and across her chin, cleaning away all the leftover custard. "Hmm, delicious," he purred.

Hermione could barely think, her mind was foggy with unyielding lust and desire. She pulled his head back and claimed his mouth in a heated, rather messy kiss. "God, Malfoy," she panted brokenly. "I need you."

Malfoy growled lowly at her confession and reached down between them to undo his trousers. "Get up a minute," he rasped huskily.

Hermione stood and tore at the opening of her jeans with abandon, before dragging them down her legs and kicking them off. She glanced down at his flushed, thick cock that was poking out of the opening in his trousers. She didn't bother waiting for him to take them off completely, she just lifted her leg and straddled him once more, pulling her knickers to one side as she lowered herself onto him excruciatingly slow, groaning deeply as she felt the familiarity of him filling her.

"Fuck," he choked out, gripping her hips and pulling her down as he thrust up inside her.

" _Aarggghhh_ ," she grasped his face in both hands and tilted it back, staring down at him as she rode him wantonly.

Malfoy drilled up into her with deep powerful thrusts.

They fucked fast and hard, letting their carnal needs take over and do with it what they will. It was hot. It was messy. It was probably the best thing that had ever happened to either of them.

" _Fuck_ ," Malfoy gritted. "I'm going to come.  _I'm going to come_ ," he warned on a gasp, thrusting up into her more strongly than before.

Hermione beat him to it. She screamed out loud, her voice echoing off the stone walls and resonating around them in a never-ending whirlwind of sound. Her orgasm spiked, pulsing outwards, and she was lost in a tsunami of ecstasy.

Malfoy buried his face in the crook of her neck, muffling his own verbal release, and shuddered fiercely as he came inside her.

"Holy fucking shit," he panted after taking a few moments to gather his wits. "I think you've probably woke up the whole castle."

Hermione gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. "Oh God. We didn't put up a silencing charm!"

Malfoy glanced at the door, as if expecting someone to come barging in at any second. "I think we better go," he urged.

"Now?" she muttered, sounding disappointed.

"Unless you want to get caught with my dick still inside you?" he raised a brow at her, and she pouted, standing up. "I thought so."

They quickly cleaned up, righted their clothes, and jogged over to the exit. "Disillusionment charm," she whispered harshly and they both cast the spell, disappearing to blend into their surroundings. "So, I'll see you Wednesday?" she asked uncertainly as she slowly opened the kitchen door. She didn't want to leave. She wanted more time with him.

She felt Malfoy grab her arm and tug her backwards. He traced his fingers over her face before finding her mouth and pressing his lips to hers. "I'll see you Wednesday," he assured her and smacked her on the bum.

" _Ouch,_ " she hissed and then giggled.

Thankfully, Hermione made it all the way back up to her dormitory without getting caught. Once inside the confines of her four poster bed, she thought back on the night and couldn't help the huge smile that broke out on her face. She felt so giddy  _and alive_ , she could barely contain herself. Also, those pesky little butterflies were still fluttering around in her belly...

Hermione suddenly sat bolt upright.

Good grief. _No._ It couldn't be...

Holy shit, but she had a big, fat crush on Draco sodding Malfoy. How the bloody hell had that happened?

She fell back against her pillows and groaned.

As Malfoy would say; the apocalypse was surely nigh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter. As always I love to hear your thoughts :D. It was quite lighthearted and kind of sweet, I guess, compared to the other chapters. I want the next few chapters to be... well, lighthearted, because after that we've going straight down to angst town. Soooooo, yeah. Thanks for reading. *hugs*
> 
> Thank you Black_Osmosis for beta reading this chapter! *massive hug* :-D


	10. Chapter 10

On Sunday afternoon, Draco carefully opened his eyes and blinked several times, staring up at the underside of his green canopy. He had just woken up from a lengthy nap and was trying to assess his current situation.

You see, naps were  _risky_ , either you woke up feeling as though you'd been resurrected, or you woke up feeling as though the night bus had been dropped on your head. It was one or the other. There was no in between.

Draco yawned, stretching his arms and legs out as he cracked his neck from side to side.

Bloody _wanking_ hell _._ Clearly, luck was not on his side.

He squinted his eyes and scanned his surroundings for the night bus, it must be around here somewhere.

Draco pulled back the curtains on his four poster and sat on the edge of his bed for long moments, contemplating life and whether it was all worth it. He eventually concluded that it wasn't. He should have just gone outside with Blaise and the others instead of coming up to the dormitory to nap. Rookie mistake.

It was snowing out and it seemed as though the castle's occupants were all in the same mind when everyone and their grandmother ran outside to start snow ball fights.

At the time, Draco had detested the idea and was rather vocal about how he'd rather shave the skin off his face than go anywhere near the dreadful stuff. He had even sneered at McGonagall's passing comment that he would regret it later if he didn't join in the fun. As it turns out, hindsight is a bigger bitch than she is.

Christ but his eyes would _not_  stay open and his head felt like that time he'd gotten high on potions with Blaise and Theo - all foggy, but not in a good way.

He stood up and stumbled towards Theo's bed, nearly pulling the curtains down in the process.

" _Shit_ ," he hissed, righting himself.

"Draco?" came Theo's muffled voice from within the confines of his four poster.

Draco frowned. "Theo? I thought you went to the Quidditch pitch with -" he pulled the curtains back and stared in disgust at the hideous sight that met his eyes - a naked Theo between an equally naked Pansy Parkinson's legs - "Well, well, well. What do we have here?" he smirked.

"Draco!" Pansy screeched, sounding far too much like a banshee for his liking. "Do you mind? Turn around!" she pulled at Theo's bed sheets, attempting to cover herself.

Draco snorted. "Why? It's not like I haven't seen it all before. Trust me, if I see something new, I'll throw a knut at it."

" _Draco_ ," Theo let out a long suffering sigh and closed his eyes as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Must you?"

"What?" he asked innocently, like he hadn't just referred to Pansy as some sort of prostitute.

"Theo,  _move_ ," Pansy snapped suddenly, shoving at his bare chest.

Draco stood back and watched in pure amusement as Pansy flung herself out of bed and began gathering all of her clothes.

"Where are you going?" Theo asked, sounding just as disgruntled as he looked.

Pansy turned and glared at him before spinning around and storming out of the dormitory, huffing as she went.

Both boys eyed her retreat, yet their expressions couldn't be more different if they tried.

"Bye," Draco called after her, waving merrily.

Theo turned and scowled at Draco. "Thanks  _mate_ ," he gritted, once the door had slammed shut behind her.

Draco looked taken a back. "What? Why the hell are you pissed off with me? I'm the one whose eyes have just been violated, not yours. Actually," he stroked his chin in contemplation. "I suppose you did see her naked too and, if I'm not mistaken, you  _were_  just about to shag her, so I reckon you're worse off than I am. And before you ask, no, I'm not going to apologize. I'll have you know, I've just saved you from months of misery. You should be thanking me, really."

Theo stared at him blankly. "Are you serious?"

"As spattergroit," Draco answered solemnly.

"Draco, you are unbelievable!" Theo exclaimed. "You must be off your rocker if you think that I'm going to  _thank_  you. That was about to be my first lay in over 6 bleeding months -"

"- with  _Pansy_ ," Draco cut in, scrunching up his face in revulsion.

"So!" Theo stood up and pulled on his boxers. "Don't look at me with those judgy eyes. You've shagged her before."

" _Exactly_ ," Draco said emphatically. "Which is precisely why I can say this with confidence, you have literally just dodged a curse.

Theo eyed him speculatively. "She can't have been that bad, surely?"

"Bad?" Draco gaped. "She's a fucking lunatic, she wouldn't leave me alone for  _weeks_. In fact she still mithers me to death now."

Theo nodded, if not a little reluctantly. He had probably noticed, it was hard not to. "To be fair, I think she only agreed to shag me to make you jealous."

"Bitch," Draco tutted, shaking his head. "You deserve better."

Theo shrugged and swiftly changed the subject. "Did you hear about Slughorns Christmas party?"

"No," Draco stifled a yawn, his eyes flicking back to his bed, which still looked mighty inviting if was being honest.

"Well, the old coot's throwing one next Saturday and only his  _favorites,_  and a friend of their choice, are invited," Theo told him as he rummaged in his chest for some clean clothes. "Blaise is going, he asked if I wanted to go with him, but I can't be arsed. Plus Slughorn's not that fond of me anyway after that whole thing with my dad."

Draco nodded. The _whole thing_  being that Nott senior used to be a member of the Slug Club when he was attending Hogwarts and was very close with the Potions Professor for years after, right up until it was made public that Nott senior had joined the Dark Lords forces and become a Death Eater. After that they never spoke again.

"I think Blaise is going to ask you if you want to go," Theo informed him, pulling a shirt on and buttoning it up.

Draco grunted and fell face first onto his bed. "I can't think of anything worse," he grumbled into his pillow.

Theo snorted. "Do you want to come and get some food?" he asked.

"No, I think I'm just going to have another nap," he mumbled, reaching behind him and pulling his duvet over himself.

"Suit yourself," Theo threw a used sock at Draco's head and cackled when he began to gag loudly.

"Dirty bastard!" the blond yelled, flicking the foul thing onto the floor.

He roughly pulled his curtains closed and snuggled deeper into his mattress as he heard the dormitory door open and then shut.

He was alone.

Draco breathed in deeply, basking in the rare serenity of the moment. They were few and far between when you shared a room with four other guys.

He slowly turned over onto his back, his mind wondering to the previous night and the mind blowing sex he'd had with Granger.

_Granger._

He closed his eyes and smiled as he bit his lip, remembering the way she had climb on top of him with an almost reckless abandon. The sheer lust and determination he'd seen shining in her eyes was almost enough to completely undo him.

She was turning out to be quite the anomaly. She rarely did, or said, anything that he expected her to. She was shy in the most absurd moments and shockingly impulsive in others. He liked that about her though, it was different, something he hadn't experienced with anyone else before now.

Draco could easily read people, he had always been able to. It was a blessing as well as a curse. A blessing to be able to see through anyone's bullshit and a curse because sometimes it was  _nice_  to be shocked once in a while.

He'd thought he had Granger all figured out. Yet, the more time he spent with her the more apparent it became that he did not.

She intrigued him and, if he was being honest, she scared him a little too. Not that he would ever admit that out loud,  _to_   _anyone_. It was hard enough admitting it to himself.

He was treading dangerous waters, he knew that, he had been since the moment this thing with Granger all started, but he found he didn't really care as much as he did in the beginning and the revelation was daunting to say the least.

Since their meeting in the Room of Requirement, Draco found himself watching her when she thought that no one was looking. He quickly discovered some of her little quirks, like how she anxiously flicked her fingertips with her thumb whenever she didn't know the answer to something, and how she got this weird look on her face when someone else was asked to answer a question instead of her. It was funny to witness and as a result his eyes followed her more often than was probably wise, wanting to learn more.

She pouted her lips when she read and stroked the pages of books almost reverently before she turned them. There was this weird thing she would do with her quill whenever she dipped it into her ink pot, it was like a swirl and flick of her wrist to get rid of any excess ink off the nib and every time she did it Draco felt the desperate need to ask her  _why?..._ Why didn't she just tap it with her finger or run it along the inner edge of the pot like everyone else did. The most fascinating thing that he discovered though, was how whenever she was concentrating really hard on something she would get this little jagged line right between her eyebrows, the very same line that appeared whenever she was about to come.

Draco smirked at the thought that he was the only one who knew that about her.

She was mostly alone towards the end of last week, which made it easy for him to make these observations. He'd thought it was strange at first, how he hardly saw her with her usual crowd, but later found out that it was due to Potter and his unflinching ability to be a complete and utter arsehole. It didn't matter that the bastard was right in his accusations against the blond. The fact was, he'd dropped Granger like a bad habit and even Draco, of all people, could see the wrongness in that. Especially considering that this was perfect-Potter,  _the chosen one_ , who apparently wasn't so perfect after all.

He had to admit that it did make him feel a certain sort of way that it was because of him that they weren't talking.

He swallowed thickly and squeezed his eyes tightly shut. God, what if Granger found out that he was a Death Eater...

He swiftly pushed the thought from his mind.

 _No._ He would not do this again _._ He had made his decision, as had she when she'd admitted that she would turn him in without a moments hesitation. He didn't blame her, how could he? But it was useless thinking about all the  _what if's_. It was mentally exhausting and at the end of the day, what was done, was done. There was nothing he could do about it. Draco couldn't end this thing with her anymore than he could tell her that he was a Death Eater.

Besides, he was selfish when he wanted to be and at the moment, Granger was still his only means of distraction. He'd be an idiot to throw it all away now. Plus, the sex was fantastic and it was an excellent stress reliever.

Imagines of her riding him on the bench in the kitchen instantly flooded his feverish mind.

Yes. This is what he should be occupying his thoughts with - a passionate Granger, wild with sexual desire.

He thought about her full lips on his, her wicked tongue that always flicked against his in the most perfect way, and her roaming hands, unfailingly eager to touch him  _everywhere_. He imagined the feel of her tightness around his cock and instantly felt himself harden.

Draco reached down and gripped himself through his boxer shorts, squeezing tightly as he released a choppy breath.

He ran his free hand across his bare chest and down to the hard ridges of his abdominals, taking extra care to brush his fingers over the places that made him clench and squirm.

He hastily flung the duvet to one side, shivering as the cold air hit his flushed skin.

Not wasting any time, he pulled the front of his boxers down, hooking the elastic under his balls and taking hold of his cock, stroking it -  _up and down, up and down -_  imagining that it was Grangers hand and not his.

Draco groaned lowly and gazed down to watch the hard length of his cock glide seamlessly through his fist. He thrust his hips up as he simultaneously brought his fist down, producing a delicious sensation that radiated low in his pelvis and shot all the way up his spine.

He thought about the taste of Granger's pussy on his tongue, remembering the feel of her against his lips and vowed to do it again at his earliest convenience.

Draco allowed his mind to become awash with all things Hermione Granger - from her insufferable know-it-all ways, right down to her new-found, frisky, nature. He lost himself in every facet of her, drowning himself in everything that made her who she was.

In no time at all, Draco could feel his release burning hotly at his center, his whole body tensed in preparation as he gazed down, his hand a blur on his impossibly hard cock.

He was close,  _so close._

It was the image of Granger, with that little jagged line between her eyebrows and her mouth open on a cry of ecstasy that sent him tumbling over the edge.

He choked out a gasping moan, his hand slowing and barely moving at all, as he watched long ribbons of come spurt from the flushed tip of his cock, hitting him on his stomach, chest and even his chin.

Draco collapsed back on his bed, his body suddenly feeling boneless. He reached up and smeared his come along his chin and jaw, marveling at the fact that it managed to get all the way up there. He idly trailed his fingers through the mess on his chest and stomach before grabbing his wand and cleaning himself up.

He righted his boxers and flipped over onto his front as the inevitable post-orgasmic fatigue gripped him, pulling him under.

As he felt himself drifting off into his second nap of the day, he had two thoughts enter his mind. One, he couldn't wait to shag Granger on Wednesday. Two, he hoped that this nap would breath new life into him like the first one was supposed to. If not, he feared he might be dead the next time he woke up... No matter how illogical that sounded.

* * *

On Wednesday, Draco was climbing the Grand Staircase, on his way up to meet Granger on the 7th floor, when Professor Snape suddenly stepped out on a landing, startling Draco out of his wits.

"Jesus  _Christ,_ " Draco growled, eyeing the potions master with disdain. It didn't help that he looked more bat-like than ever.

"Good evening, Draco," Snape greeted him in his usual slow drawl.

"Evening," Draco grumbled, trying to side step his head of house.

Snape blocked his path. "You seem to have lost your way. Slytherin house is in the dungeons, which, in case you didn't know, is in the  _opposite_  direction," he informed the blond, tone dripping with sarcasm.

Draco sneered. "Really? I never knew that. After 6 years living in this castle I still don't know where I sleep every night. Strange that, isn't it? Thank you for your wise wisdom where the layout of the castle is concerned," he attempted to maneuver around the professor again.

"Draco," Snape warned.

"What?" he snapped.

"You have been avoiding me."

Draco glared at him. It was true, he had.

"Well?" Snape prompted.

"Well, what?" Draco lifted his chin defiantly. "Do you want me to congratulate you on your observation skills?"

"Watch your tongue," Snape hissed menacingly.

Draco clenched his teeth together and looked away.

Snape sighed tiredly. "I just want to help you, that's all."

"I don't want, nor need, your help," Draco spat. "So stop harassing me."

"I made an unbreakable vow -"

"I don't care!" Draco exploded. "I  _have_  to do this on my own. If I don't he will..." he broke off and swallowed thickly.

"He doesn't have to know," Snape urged, gripping the blonds shoulders. "Let me help you."

" _No,"_ Draco stepped back causing the professors arms to fall limply by his sides.

"At least tell me how you plan to do it then," Snape pleaded.

"I have it under control."

"Really?" Snape intoned. "Katie Bell would argue otherwise."

Draco closed his eyes against the unwanted reminder. "That was an unfortunate mishap. It won't happen again."

"The girl almost lost her life -"

"I know! I said it won't happen again."

"See that it doesn't," Snape drawled.

"Are we done?" Draco asked.

"For now."

Draco rolled his eyes and continued his ascent up the Grand Staircase, not bothering to look back at his professor. He knew that he'd been harsh, but Snape's interfering was reaching new heights and, quite frankly, it was getting a little too much to bear. He wasn't sure how many more times he was going to have to say that he didn't want any help before it finally sunk into that incredibly thick skull of his.

It was infuriating.

What was worse, Snape knew that if the Dark Lord found out that Draco had had any help whatsoever with one,  _or both_ , of his tasks then he would kill his mother anyway just out of spite.

Did Snape even care about that? He doubted it.

Draco was well aware that the potions master had made an Unbreakable Vow to protect him and, yes, he felt terrible about it, he really did. Snape was cornered, just like Draco, but there was no point waxing on about it. There was nothing neither of them could do to change it. At the end of the day, if Draco had to chose between his own life, Snape's life and his mothers life, his mothers would always prevail. The sooner Snape realized that the better.

Draco rounded the corner on the seventh floor and instantly spotted Granger.

She waved, an easy smile lighting up her face, but as he drew nearer, and she got a proper look at him, she frowned. "What's wrong?" she asked, an edge to her tone.

"Nothing," he lied, reaching out impulsively to brush his fingers against her cheek. Her skin was so soft, like silk or velvet. "How are you?" he asked, wanting to redirect her thoughts.

"I'm fine," she briefly closed her eyes, reveling in the feel of his touch.

"Potter and Weasley still being tossers?" he enquired, already knowing the answer, yet wanting to her say it anyway.

"Yes," she nodded. "But I'm OK. I've been keeping myself busy."

Draco nodded.

"How are you?" she asked.

He shrugged lazily, his arm snaking around her waist and pulling her closer. "I'm alright," he ran his hands up her arms and guided them up around his neck before leaning down to kiss her gently. "I think I'm going to feel a whole lot better  _very_  soon though," he confessed, a teasing edge to his tone.

"Really?" she raised her eyebrow at him. "What makes you so sure?"

"Let's call it hunch," he smirked and pushed her against the wall, kissing her more firmly this time.

Suddenly, there was a loud crash that sounded like it came from the next corridor over and the two of them hastily broke apart, Draco quickly adjusting his erection so that it wasn't so noticeable.

"What was that?" Hermione whispered.

Draco frowned. "Your guess is as good as mine."

He hoped that Snape hadn't followed him, but then again Snape was way too sneaky to make such a racket, so it couldn't possibly be him.

Draco was about to say that they should probably go inside the Room of Requirement when Potter abruptly emerged at the end of the corridor, covered in green slime of all things.

They all froze, staring at each other for long moments, until Draco let lose a loud and obnoxious snort. "What the fuck happened to you, Potter?" There was a loud cackle off in the distance and the mocking chant of ' _potty, potter, pot head'._ Draco grinned. "Never mind."

Potter growled lowly.

Draco squinted his eyes, giving his nemesis a quick once over. "I must say, ectoplasm suits you. It really brings out your eyes."

"Oh fuck off, Malfoy," Potter sneered.

Draco out right laughed, he couldn't help it. "You look fucking ridiculous," he told him. "I mean, more ridiculous than usual, which is a feat I didn't think possible, but here you stand."

"Harry, are you OK?" Hermione asked tentatively.

"I'm fine," he spat and turned to walk away.

"Leaving so soon?" Draco called after him conversationally. "You did come here to check up on me, did you not? Why not stay awhile. Come and watch us study? You never know, you might learn something."

"Malfoy," Hermione warned. "Don't."

Potter turned and narrowed his eyes at her. "What is it, Hermione? Are you scared that we'll get into a fight and I'll hurt your new friend," he taunted.

Draco scrunched up his face. " _New friend,_ " he balked. "Are you on acid potions? Or did you swallowed some of that ectoplasm?"

Hermione sighed and threw her hands up in defeat. "Why do I even bother?"

"You don't," Harry grumbled. "That's the problem."

Hermione gasped, hurt clouding her expression. "What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded.

"I thought you said you were smart? Figure it out," he threw back, snidely.

What an utter  _wanker_. Draco gritted his teeth together and made a grab for his wand, but Hermione stopped him. He glared at her. She wasn't seriously going to let him talk to her like that, was she?

Apparently she was because she didn't say anything, she just let him walk away.

"Go and suck a dick, Potter," Draco told him with the single intent to rile him up.

As expected Potter took the bait and spun around wand aimed straight at the blond.

Draco smirked and pulled his own wand out. "Are you sure you know how to use that thing?" he goaded and a second later his wand came flying out of his hand.

At first, Draco thought that Potter had been the cause, but when the stupid git began yelling at Granger to give him his wand back, Draco realized who the culprit really was.

He turned and eyed Granger, who was now holding three wands and looking mighty pleased with herself.

"Granger, what are you doing?" he asked in an almost bored tone.

"What am I doing?" she asked, exasperated. "What the hell are  _you two_  doing? Grow up will you!"

Draco looked towards the heavens and muttered to himself - something about interfering witches.

"Hermione!" Potter yelled. "Give -"

"No!" she bellowed, cutting him off. "Turn around and go back to Gryffindor tower. I will bring you your wand in a minute."

Potter glared at her, he looked like he wanted to argue, but in the end he just spat out a curse and stormed off in an uncanny imitation of a petulant child.

"When you said that you'd bring him his wand in a minute, you really meant in an hour, right?" Draco asked, stepping towards her and tugging on the hem of her school jumped. She looked pissed.

"No. I meant in a minute," she crossed her arms in a no-nonsense sort of manner.

"Fucking hell," Draco groaned dramatically. "That's not fair, why do I have to suffer because of that wanker?"

Hermione pursed her lips and scowled. "It wasn't all Harry's fault. As far as I'm concerned, you're as bad as each other."

Draco scoffed and snatched his wand back. "That particular notion offends me. Potter and I are nothing alike!"

Hermione sighed tiredly. "Malfoy,  _please_. I'm not in the mood to argue with you. I just want to go to bed. I'm exhausted."

What the fuck? She wasn't just going to leave him here like this, was she?

He glowered at her. "Why do I feel like I'm getting the blame for all this?"

"You're not," she exhaled.

"It sure seems like it," he grumbled. "Fine, whatever. Will I see you Saturday?"

"Oh. Actually, no," she glanced at him guiltily. "I'm going to Slughorn's Christmas party, so we will probably have to leave it till next Wednesday now."

Draco stared at her, long and hard, a million questions running through his mind at once. The most important one being, who the fuck was she going to Slughorn's party with?

Luckily, he managed to bite his tongue. There was no need to come across as a jealous fool, because he wasn't. Absolutely not. "How lovely," he sneered. "Well, have fun then," he turned and walked away.

Hermione called out to him, but he ignored her.

* * *

"Draco?"

" _What!_ " he snapped.

"Well, I see that you're in fine spirits again," Blaise commented pleasantly, sitting on the chair opposite the blond.

"What do you want?" Draco demanded, feeling disgruntled about being interrupted. He had been lounging in his favorite throne-like chair, glaring into the fire, which one of his absolute favorite things to do whenever he was particularly pissed off about something.

Blaise sighed wistfully. "Ah, many things. One being that blonde, saucy, little minx in Ravenclaw. You know, the one in the year below us - mostly a loner, but sometimes seen with that Weasley girl. Alas, we can't win them all, can we?"

Draco frowned at him. "What on earth are you waffling on about now?" Blaise tended to do this a lot - talk shit that is.

"You asked me what I wanted," Blaise blinked. "So I told you."

"I wanted to know what you wanted with  _me,_ " Draco groaned. _Christ_.

"Oh. Well, perhaps you should be more specific next time," Blaise stated unapologetically.

Draco shot him a murderous look.

"Anyway," Blaise waved a dismissive hand. "Do you want to come to Slughorn's Christmas party with me?"

"Depends," Draco lifted one leg up on the arm of his chair and slouched down into it. "On a scale of one to ten, how annoying are you likely to be?"

"I'd say a solid five, but if there's booze involved probably more like an eleven. It's hard to say at this stage," Blaise shrugged. "Fancy your chances?" he raised a brow in challenge.

Draco tilted his head to the side and ran his index finger over his bottom lip in contemplation. "Not really, no."

"Oh, live a little," Blaise reached over and lightly punched him on the arm. "It'll be fun."

Draco let out a bark of laughter. "I've heard that one before. I think the last time was when I woke up on a lilo in the middle of my pond with near hypothermia. Mother was not pleased."

"Ah yes, good times," Blaise grinned. "I have a scar on my left arse cheek from that night. It's shaped like a boot and whenever I look at it it brings back fond memories of you singing the Weird Sisters and knocking over that expensive statue."

Draco winced at the memory. "I've still not been forgiven that. That statue was from the 17th century. Father tried to mend it, but it's never looked the same."

"Don't worry about it. It was fugly anyway."

Draco nodded in agreement.

"So, will you come or not?" Blaise prompted. "I promise not to spike your drink."

"Fine," he sighed and they lapsed into a comfortable silence the likes of which could only be achieved after long years of friendship.

Draco turned and gazed into the fire, deep in thought.

Granger would be there tomorrow, and he wasn't sure how he felt about it. Their last meeting hadn't exactly gone as planned, and he knew that if he saw someone else fawning all over her he would break their neck without a moments hesitation.

He could imagine everyone's shocked faces now.

How on earth would he explain himself?

* * *

It's fine. It's  _fine_. Granger wouldn't come to the party with someone else. After all, it was one of her conditions that they not date anyone else while they were sleeping together. So, it's all good. Nothing to worry about.

Draco and Blaise strode into the party, heads held high.

It was quite amusing to watch people shy away from them as they walked through the crowd towards the drinks table.

Both Slytherins stopped in front of an array of multi-colored drinks as Draco casually glanced around the large room, looking for a familiar bushy head of hair. When he came up short, his expression turned ominously dark, and he shoved his hands into his pockets, looking every inch the formidable ice prince.

"Here," Blaise handed him a drink.

Draco glanced at the ghastly murky-orange concoction, and grimaced. "What is it?" he asked, taking the drink and eyeing it with a look of revulsion.

"It's alcohol," Blaise informed him bluntly. "Drink it."

He took a tentative sip and instantly gagged. " _Jesus Christ._  What happened to that promise of you not spiking my drink?" Blaise shot him a sly grin. "What the bloody hell did you put in it?"

"Firewhisky, but I think someone else spiked the punch before me, so who knows what's in it."

" _Ugh_ , I can taste that muggle stuff that your mother brought back from Mexico that time," he cringed.

"Tequila?"

Draco gagged again at hearing the name. "Dreadful stuff."

"Oh, stop your whinging and just drink it, you won't be able to taste it after a while."

Draco took another sip, and then another. He was about to take his third sip when he suddenly spotted Granger across the room.

He froze, the edge of his glass resting on his bottom lip.

_What the fuck?_

What on earth was she _wearing?_  And what had happened to her _hair_? It was  _straight,_  not a single curl in sight. No wonder he couldn't find her before.

Draco took a deep breath and surreptitiously swept his silver gaze up and down the entire length of her body, taking in every inch of her slinky floor-length black dress. He felt his stomach quiver at the sight of her luscious curves - luscious curves that everyone else could also see. He released an angry rush of air and knocked his drink back in one go.

Salazar's rod. He needed to get a grip. Jealousy was terribly unbecoming, and he refused to stoop to that level.

He glanced back towards Granger, his eyes zeroing in on her cleavage before dropping down to her lovely pert bottom.

_Merlin, strike him dead._

"Draco?  _Hello?_ " Blaise waved a hand in front of his face.

"Hmm?" he blinked distractedly. "What is it?"

"I said I'm going to talk to Daphne, are you coming?" Blaise huffed impatiently.

"Yes, just let me get another drink," he reached over and filled his glass to the brim.

"It's not so bad, ey?" Blaise asked, eyeing the now brown liquid. It seemed that the punch had been spiked again.

Draco wrinkled his nose. "It's disgusting," he told him. "But there's nothing else to sodding drink, so I've got no choice in the matter."

"You could drink  _water_ ," Blaise suggested, his tone dropping an octave. He didn't need to add the word  _pussy_  at the end. Blaise carefully took a sip of his own drink, eyeing the blond out of the corner of his eye.

"Fuck off. If I'm to get through this pathetic excuse of a party, I'm going to need more than just water," Draco grumbled.

"That's the spirit!" Blaise clapped him on the back. "Come on, let's go and find Daphne, she seems to have wondered off somewhere."

Draco sighed, and roughly rubbed a hand over his face before following.

They found Daphne on the other side of the room, mere feet from where Granger stood talking to some guy Draco didn't recognize.

_Who the fuck is he?_

"Draco!" Daphne screeched, flinging her arms around his neck and squeezing, nearly choking the life right out of him. "I didn't know you were coming too," she stumbled backwards and then giggled. Clearly, she'd sampled the punch.

"I had to virtually drag him here," Blaise sighed dramatically. "He's being a right moody sod, perhaps you can cheer him up, Daph?"

"Oh yes, of course," she linked her arm through Draco's and proceeded to talk his ear off. About what? Draco didn't know. He was too busy looking at Granger who was currently staring daggers at him.

_Unbelievable!_

She wasn't allowed to be angry with him. He was already mad at her and that oaf she was talking to.

If Granger was surprised to see him there she didn't show it. It seemed she was far too busy mentally castrating him for such trivial things.

Draco felt Daphne stroke her finger down the side of his neck and watched in sheer fascination as Grangers face morphed into shock, then disbelief, before finally settling on pure livid anger.

Oh, _shit._

Draco hastily batted Daphne's hand away and untangled his arm from hers as he watched Granger storm off in a rage. "Excuse me, Daph. Can you give me a minute, I just need to... I'll be back in minute."

Draco looked for Granger all over the place, but couldn't find her anywhere. In the end he went back to Blaise and made sure to keep his distance from Daphne.

Granger reemerged around forty minutes later, looking more than a little sloshed.

Draco narrowed his eyes at her. Where the hell had she been? He gritted his teeth together as the guy she had been talking to earlier sidled up to her, and began flirting outrageously.

That's it. Enough was enough. He wouldn't just stand back and watch this  _shit_.

Draco knocked his 5th drink back - or maybe it was his 6th? - and marched over to them.

"Granger," he greeted, his tone low and menacing.

"Malfoy," she spluttered, almost choking on her drink.

"Having a good night?" he asked almost casually, his silver eyes boring into hers.

"Hi, Draco," Mr flirty said, offering his hand to the blond. "We haven't officially met."

Draco looked down at the proffered hand, his lip curling in contempt. "And you are?" he asked rudely, not offering his own hand.

"Cormac McLaggen," the other guy answered with a tight smile, his hand slowly retreating back to his side. "I have a friend who went to one of your parents summer parties once, he had nothing but nice things to say about you and your hospitality."

"Really?" Draco said, raising one eyebrow. "That's weird because I'm a dick," he proceeded to stare at him, face expressionless.

Cormac took a wary step back, looking more than a little intimidated.

Hermione tutted and pulled sharply on Draco's suit jacket. "Stop it. You're being rude," she hissed.

"I'm not being rude," Draco scoffed. "This is me. This is who I am."

She rolled her eyes. "Cormac, would you mind getting me another drink?"

Cormac nodded and took her empty glass. He glanced at them both, frowning a little, before he turned and walked away.

" _Cormac, would you mind getting me another drink?_ " Draco mocked, pulling his face in a shoddy imitation of her.

Hermione whacked him for his troubles. "What are you doing, Malfoy?"

"What am  _I_  doing?" he asked her, disbelief coloring his tone. "What are _you_ doing _?_ "

"I'm having some drinks with a friend," she answered simply, flicking her hair over her shoulder.

"A friend? What a load of shite," Draco growled, incensed. "Are you trying to make me jealous or something? Because it's pathetic."

"I'm not trying to make you jealous, but going off the way you're currently acting you clearly are," she crossed her arms, causing his eyes to briefly dropped to her breast.

Draco let out an annoyed puff of air. "You mean like you were before when Daphne touched me?" he threw back snidely.

Hermione glared at him. "Well, since you brought it up. Exactly what was that all about with  _Daphne_?" she spat the name like it left a horrible taste in her mouth.

" _Nothing!_ " he exclaimed hotly. He gritted his teeth together and glanced around surreptitiously. Shit, he'd attracted some attention. He took a deep calming breath and lowered his voice. "That's just what she's like, she's very touchy-feely, she does it with everyone."

Hermione narrowed her eyes, clearly not believing him.

"For fucks sake. I'm telling the truth," he stepped a little closer to her. "I promise."

Hermione glanced up at him inquisitively. "Really?"

" _Yes,_ " he glanced across to the other side of the room, and sure enough Daphne was stroking Blaise's hair while they engaged in an intense discussion about something or another. "See," he pointed at them.

Hermione looked over to where he was pointing. "Oh," she muttered, ducking her head as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "I see what you mean," she turned back towards him, her eyes bright and glassy from all the alcohol she'd consumed.

Draco looked her over, his eyes caressing her curves sensually. "You look..." he faltered.

"What?" she asked, running her hands over her dress self-consciously.

"Stunning," he told her frankly, shoving a hand inside his trouser pocket as he used the other to rub his jaw. "You look stunning."

She blushed prettily. "As do you."

"Your hair," he reached out to touch it, but caught himself at the last second.

Hermione laughed. "Different, isn't it?"

"Just a bit," he answered sarcastically.

She stared at his face for long moments, longer than was probably acceptable in their present company. "I've missed you this week," she confessed quietly, her gaze dropping to run a slow path up and down the length of his body, taking him in from head to toe, her cheeks heating deliciously.

"Granger," he groaned. "Don't look at me like that or I'll bend you over and take you right here in front of all these people."

In response, her eyes darkened to almost black, and she bit her bottom lip between her teeth.

"Fuck me," he breathed, closing his eyes briefly in an attempt to collect himself. "Stop it," he pleaded. "Are you trying to kill me?"

"Draco," she said almost reverently, taking a step closer to him.

Draco's eyes snapped open and he stared at her intently. Had she really just said his name? He didn't think he'd ever heard her say it before. He opened his mouth to tell her that they were leaving when Cormac McLaggen chose that very moment to return with her drink.

"Here you go my lady," he leered.

Draco released an angry rush of air through his nose, and cracked his knuckles loudly.

 _'Don't do it,'_  he told himself firmly.  _'You will fuck everything up, and it's not worth it. It may seem like it is now, but it really isn't.'_

"Thank you," Hermione said, awkwardly. "But, um, I actually think I'm going to leave. I've had a bit too much to drink, and I'm tired."

"Aww really?" McLaggen pouted grotesquely. It was probably the singular most disgusting thing that Draco had ever witnessed in his life, and he'd seen Theo naked last week, so that was really saying something. "That's a shame. At least let me walk you back?"

"She doesn't need you to walk her back," Draco snapped. "She's a big girl, she can look after herself."

"OK," Hermione said loudly, trying to defuse the situation.

"Well, that's alright," Cormac smiled pleasantly. "If Hermione doesn't want me to walk her back then all she has to do is say so."

_What an utter cockhead._

"Granger," Draco bit out. "Do you want Conor here to walk you back?"

"It's Cormac," the slimy git corrected.

"Whatever."

"Um," Hermione began. "No, I'm OK. I can walk myself back. Thank you though."

Draco didn't smile, but he wanted to.

"Suit yourself," McLaggen shrugged and then turned to the blond. "You know, Draco," he began. "You and I are very alike, I think we could be great friends."

_Seriously?_

"You know what, _Cameron_ ," Draco gripped the arseholes shoulder, hard. "I think your right. I look at you and I see myself. A less dashing, less intelligent version..." he paused and seemed to consider his words. "Actually, now I think about it. We're actually  _nothing_  a like."

McLaggen scowled petulantly. "My name is  _Cormac_ ," he corrected again.

"I don't care," Draco scoffed, and walked away to find Blaise.

* * *

It took Draco longer than anticipated to convince Blaise that he'd had enough and was going to bed.

The irritating sod tried everything in his power to make Draco stay, even going as far as tying the blond to a chair. Luckily, Draco had been brushing up on his wandless magic and easily escaped, much to Blaise chagrin.

Once Draco finally got away, he scanned the room for Granger only to discover that she had already left. He spotted dickhead-McLaggen chatting to another unlucky soul, but didn't bother himself with it. As long as it wasn't Granger he couldn't give a shit who the prick talked to.

Draco stepped out onto the 6th floor corridor, briefly glancing up and down it, before deciding to go left towards the Grand Staircase.

He made it all the way to the landing before he felt a pair of hands grab him, dragging him into an alcove.

Hermione instantly pressed herself against him, reaching up on her tip-toes to kiss him hard.

They kissed fiercely, their hands gripping and kneading various body parts in an attempt to quench some of the need that coursed through them, but it was useless, and before long Hermione was tearing at the opening of his trousers, fingers fumbling desperately.

" _Ugh_ ," Draco grunted as her hand slid inside his boxers, and began stroking him. "Wait, wait, wait," he breathed, biting his lip as she gripped him firmly.

"What?" she mumured in between hard sucking pulls on the skin of his neck.

"We can't do this here," he told her, running his nose along her jaw, and reveling in the feel of her hand on his cock.

"Why not?"

"Granger, you are literally wanking me off in an alcove, anyone could walk past and see us."

Hermione groaned theatrically. "Please don't call me that," she pleaded, squeezing her eyes shut.

He frowned at her. "What?"

"Don't call me that," she repeated. " _Granger._ "

Draco stared at her.

"I want you to call me, Hermione," she whispered softly against his lips. "I think we are past the whole  _calling-each-other-by-our-last-names_  thing. It seems ridiculous at this point."

He licked his bottom lip. "OK," he agreed readily.

"Really?" she asked as if she hadn't actually thought he would agree.

"Really," he sucked her bottom lip into his mouth.

Hermione flicked her tongue out and brushed it against his, exhaling heavily through her nose. "Say it," she demanded.

Draco leaned back to gaze at her, silver eyes smoldering. "Hermione," he said easily, like he'd said it a thousand times before.

Hermione sucked in a breath her fingernails digging into his arms. "Say it again," she ordered, voice low and commanding.

"Hermione."

"Again."

" _Hermione_ ," he purred, and she visibly shivered as he began to place small kisses all over her face, all the while uttering her name beneath his breath like an oath.

" _Hermione_ ," kiss. " _Hermione_ ," kiss. " _Hermion_ e," kiss.

She groaned deeply, and suddenly dropped to her knees in front of him.

Draco stared down at her in amazement, pupils blown wide.

"Unbutton your shirt," she ordered.

He blinked down at her, and then glanced out into the corridor. This was  _crazy_. They shouldn't be doing this here. "Hermione -" he began, tone serious now, but she cut him off by taking his cock in her mouth, and sucking it firmly. "Oh, _fuck_ ," he groaned throatily, his head falling back against the stone wall.

"Unbutton your shirt," she repeated, her lips caressing the tip of his length enticingly.

Draco gritted his teeth together causing a muscle to jump in his jaw.  _Fuck._  He ran a hand over his face, and swiftly pulled on the knot of his tie until both ends hung loosely around his neck. He then unbutton his suit jacket, and made quick work of the buttons on his shirt.

Once he was finished, Hermione grasped each side of the fabric and spread it open wide, his nipples instantly hardening into little pebbles as she exposed him to the frigid night air.

"Mmmm," Hermione hummed, eyes raking over him hungrily. She ran her fingers slowly over his abdominals, carefully tracing the sharp angles of his muscles.

Draco swallowed thickly, his heated gaze never leaving her face.

_Fuck, was this really happening? Here?!_

She took hold of his cock again, stroking it steadily. "I've never done this before," she confessed.

"I know," he rasped.

"Let me know if I'm doing it wrong," she said, before taking him into her mouth again.

" _Ah_ ," he gasped sharply, and she quickly retreated. " _No_ ,  _don't stop,_ " he pleaded. "Keep going."

Hermione smiled up at him, and flicked her tongue out, swirling it around the tip before bobbing her head and engulfing him in searing wet heat.

Draco reached out, burying his fingers in her hair. "Fucking hell," he choked, gently pushing her head down and groaning as he went deeper into her mouth. "I'm not going to be long," he told her thickly, tilting his head to the side as he watched his cock glide between her lips.  _Definitely not long_.

They continued on like this, Draco half gripping, half stroking her hair as she swirled her tongue and bobbed her head, testing out different techniques and repeating the ones that made him gasp or moan. She went about it like she did everything else in her life by putting her absolute all into it, wanting to prove herself.

God, if someone walked past now and saw them - Hermione on her knees in her lovely gown and Draco virtually undressed, his clothes hanging off him as he thrust his throbbing cock, obscenely, into her more-than-willing mouth.

"Hermione," he groaned. "I'm going to come.  _Fuck_. I'm going to come," he tired pulling away from her thinking that she wouldn't want him coming in her mouth, but she simply hummed at hearing his admission, and swallowed him down deeper.

Not being able to help himself, Draco thrust his cock to the back of her throat and shuddered, groaning brokenly as his release coated the inside of her mouth.

He gazed down at her in wonderment, chest heaving as he slumped against the wall for support.

Hermione mouthed her way up his body, licking and sucking at his flushed skin, until she reached his lips and kissed him deeply, forcing him to taste himself on her tongue.

"How did I do?" she asked, hands skimming down his bare sides, under his open shirt.

He shrugged carelessly. "It was alright."

Hermione pinched him, and Draco grabbed her, spinning them around before trapping her against the wall. "How do _you_  think you did?" he asked rhetorically. "I came embarrassingly quick, that should be answer enough," he leaned down, and buried his nose in the crook of her neck.

She smiled, biting her lip. "You better hurry up and make yourself presentable before someone sees you like this and has an aneurysm."

Draco snorted. "Oh,  _now_  you're worried about someone walking past and seeing us," he teased and began buttoning his shirt. He didn't button it the whole way, he left a few open at the top.

Hermione smirked. "So, what are you doing now? Are you going to bed?" she asked casually, watching him tuck his shirt into his trousers before fastening them.

He looked up at her, grabbing hold of each end of his tie and pulling. "I guess so, it's late," he answered simply.

"Oh," she muttered, sounding disappointed. "OK."

Draco watched her face fall, and quickly covered his mouth to suppress a grin.

"It is late," she agreed. "And I have to go to the library early in the morning -"

"Are you coming?" Draco interrupted as he held his hand out to her, effectively cutting off her ramblings.

"Coming?" she asked. "You mean, to your  _bed_?" she gaped at him in shock.

"Yes," he frowned. "You didn't think we were done yet, did you?"

Hermione stared at him, brandy-colored eyes sparkling.

"Oh, Hermione," he breathed, a wicked grin crawling up his cheek. "We're just getting started."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was a long chapter. Hope you guys enjoyed it :D. A few things, if I may. Firstly, I'm going to Bali on 23rd March to 2nd April. I'm hoping to get chapter 11 up next Thursday (the day before I leave) but I can't promise anything as I have so much to sort out before then that I'm not 100% sure I'll have it finished in time. I'm not going to put pressure on myself to get it out, because if I rush it it will end up being shit. You don't want that, I don't want that. So, I hope you all understand and can bear with me for a few weeks - lady needs a holiday! Secondly, I have a beta! Yay! For real this time, haha. Her pen name is Black_Osmosis and we are currently working out the logistics. She will start proof-reading once I get back from my holiday. As I've said previously, the story won't be changing at all, she will just be tidying up any little mistakes etc. so no need to go back and reread what she has edited, unless you want to, which is cool :).
> 
> More smut next chapter and then the angst will start to creep in in chapter 12. Big hugs to you all xx


	11. Chapter 11

Everything inside Hermione clenched, and she sucked in a sharp breath as she stared up at him in disbelief. "But -" she began, trailing off.

"But, what?" He was standing close to her.  _Too close_. She could hardly think straight.

"We can't," she shook her head, and stepped away, trying to clear the fog from her mind. "What if we get caught?"

" _Now_  you're worried about getting caught?" he asked, eyebrow raised. "You weren't worried a few minutes ago when you were -"

"That was different," she cut him off, tone sharp.

"You're right," he agreed. "It was different - it was  _riskier_. Honestly, I don't see what the problem is."

Hermione opened her mouth to argue, but he continued on.

" _Hermione._  We won't get caught," he told her firmly, like he believed it with every fiber of his being. "All my dorm mates are out for the night, and won't be back till late. We'll make sure you leave before they get back. I promise."

"Why can't we go to the Room of Requirement?" she asked, not meaning to sound so petulant, yet sounding just that. "It's closer."

His wicked grin was back, and she couldn't help but squeeze her thighs tighter together. That grin did  _sinful_  things to her lady parts. God, she wanted his mouth on her, tasting every inch of her body... Suddenly, going back to his room didn't seem like such a bad idea.

"Because I want you in my bed," he told her firmly, leaving no room for doubt. "And I won't take no for an answer."

Well, in that case...

Hermione allowed herself to be pulled down the Grand Staircase, only stopping once when it decided to shift into a new position, which annoyingly prolonged their descent by five minutes.

They didn't speak, or look at one another until they got to the corridor that housed the entrance to the Slytherin common room.

Oh God. Was she really doing this? This was ridiculous. She should turn back and go to her own room.

Draco turned to her then, and cast a swift  _Disillusionment_  charm over her.

Hermione held her arm out in front of her face, turning it this way and that. It blended perfectly with the stone wall in front of her.

"Stay close to the wall," Draco muttered in hushed tones. "The boys dormitories are on the left. Take the staircase down six flights of stairs. My dormitory is the third on the right. Wait for me there."

"What?" she hissed, heart constricting in panic.

He ignored her and murmured the password. The wall to the Slytherin common room suddenly shifted creating a narrow entryway.

_Why the hell wasn't he going with her?_

Draco strode into the common room, and was immediately approached by none other than Pansy Parkinson.

_Perfect._

Hermione suspected that he knew this would happen, which was why he'd told her he'd meet her down there.

"Draco," she simpered. "Why are you back so soon? I thought you'd be out all night."

"Go away, Pansy," he held out his arm to stop her from getting any closer. "I'm not in the mood. I'm tired, and I'm going to bed."

Pansy stamped her foot, and thrust her nose into the air. "Why must you always be like this? There's no need to be a dick. I was only asking."

"And I was only telling," he sneered. "Now,  _move_."

Hermione quickly slipped through the entryway before it sealed itself shut, and then plastered herself against the common room wall, heart racing wildly in her chest.

_This was so unbelievably stupid!_

She breathed in and out slowly, in an attempt to calm herself down, and watched Draco and Pansy argue for a few moments. She frowned at their heated exchange.

Hermione couldn't understand why Pansy was always throwing herself at Draco when it was clear to anyone with eyes that he could barely stand her, or was this little show just for her benefit? To make her think that he didn't like the dark haired girl? Hermione grumbled under her breath, she didn't want to think about that right now.

Glancing around the large room, she slowly edged herself along the wall, taking in as much of the Slytherin common room as possible.

It was long with rough stone walls and ceiling, from which round, greenish lamps were hanging on chains. She knew from reading Hogwarts: A History that it extended partway under the Great Lake, which was why the room had an eerie green tinge to it. It was quite apt, really. There were lots of low backed black and dark green leather sofas, and dark wood cupboards. It was decorated with tapestries featuring the adventures of famous Medieval Slytherin's. Over all, it had very grand atmosphere, but also quite a cold one. Harry and Ron had told her as much when they had come in here Polyjuiced as Crabbe and Goyle back in their second year.

Hermione could safely say that she much preferred Gryffindor tower to the Slytherin dungeon.

After one final look, Hermione turned onto the stairway, as instructed, and began the long descent down. She paid careful attention to how many flights she cleared before exiting on the sixth.

_One, two, three..._

She stopped outside the third door on the right, and glanced up and down the landing before entering Draco's dormitory.

Her eyes scanned the large space, almost frantically, wanting to reassure herself that no was there like Draco had told her there wouldn't be.

No one was, and she sighed in relief as she cancelled the  _Disillusionment_  charm.

That's when she noticed the far wall, which wasn't a wall at all, but one giant floor to ceiling window.

She sucked in an awed breath and moved closer, eyes wide and mesmerized by the sheer expanse of the Great Lake on the other side.

It was stunning. Absolutely breathtaking.

Hermione wondered how many students wasted time staring out at it, because if she lived down here she would surely waste endless hours.

Looking out at it now, she could almost imagine that she was in a different world, and thinking about it, she supposed she was. Hermione was experiencing life beneath the Great Lake, and she found herself quickly submerged in the surreal beauty of it.

At that moment a group on Merpeople swam by, and Hermione flattened herself against the glass to get a better look. Of course she had seen them before, but not like this.

"Extraordinary," she breathed, wonderstruck.

"I assure you, it gets old rather quick," came Draco's deep drawl, and Hermione spun around with her hand to her chest to find him standing only a meter behind her.

"Jesus," she gasped. "You scared me half to death. I didn't hear you come in."

Draco raised his brow, and gave her a look that plainly said, ' _obviously'_. He glanced over her shoulder at the Merpeople, and sneered.

"You don't like them?" Hermione asked, sounding mildly curious. She knew they were sentient beasts that mostly preferred to keep to themselves, not unlike Centaurs, so she couldn't understand anyone not liking them - unless you were Umbridge, of course. They were also quite beautiful to look at.

"It's not that I don't like them per se," Draco began carefully. "I just don't agree with some of their... let's say,  _practices_." He turned away, intending to leave it there.

Did he forget who he was talking to?

"What do you mean," Hermione pushed, thoroughly intrigued now.

Draco turned back to her, and gave her a tight smile. "I mean they're perverts. They like to watch you get undressed."

"No," she gasped. "Really?" she glanced back out of the window, and sure enough the group of Merpeople were staring at them expectantly. "Perhaps they're just curious?"

Draco chuckled humourlessly. "If that's what it is, their curiosity should have been satiated a long time ago," he told her.

Hermione scrunched up her face at the insinuation.  _Ew_.

So Merpeople were perverts. Good to know.

Hermione was sure there was more to it than that, but she wasn't willing to discuss it now, not when Draco was kicking off his shoes and pulling off his socks. "Did you lock the door?" she asked, pulling her hair to one side and letting it cascade down to her waist. When straight, her hair was ridiculously long.

"Yes -" he answered, leisurely unbuttoning his shirt, "- with several locking charms. They won't stop anyone from getting in if they really want to, but they will give us enough warning."

Hermione bit her bottom lip and nodded, as her eyes drank in every exquisite inch of his body that was being exposed with each pop of his shirt buttons.

Feeling bold from the alcohol that was clearly still wreaking havoc on her brain cells, Hermione reached for the straps of her dress and pushed them down her arms, one by one.

Draco had just finished removing his shirt and was stood in only his trousers - feet and torso bare. He was frozen to the spot, sharp grey eyes attentively tracking her movements.

Hermione swallowed, feeling her skin heat from his fixated stare. She didn't stop though. She carefully peeled her dress down her body, bending slightly to shimmy it over her hips, and then let it fall the rest of the way down to pool at her feet.

She straightened, in nothing but her little black knickers with the red trimming, and her sky-high, black, strappy sandals.

She felt her nipples harden as silver glided over her curves.

Hermione watched Draco's eyes darken to almost black and smiled when a muscle jumped in his jaw - a tell-tale sign that he was clenching his teeth.

"Do you have any idea how you look right now?" he asked her, his voice a low husk.

Hermione blinked at the question, and then shook her head.

Draco sucked in a deep breath, chest expanding, and then released it through his nose slowly, that muscle in his jaw still working. He looked tense, ready to pounce on her at any moment. A shivered danced up Hermione's spine as he began to stalk towards her in his usual slow and predatory manner.

Hermione watched him, skin tingling in anticipation of what was about to happen.

He stopped in front of her, eyes boring down into hers, and she felt her heart stutter in her chest. It scared her when he looked at her like this - so fierce and uninhibited - but it excited her more. She had never met someone who was as intense as Draco Malfoy was. It was thrilling.

"Tell me," she whispered. "How do I look?"

Hermione knew that whatever came out of his mouth wouldn't be the whole truth, because he would never leave himself vulnerable like that. Even if it was just as simple as telling her how she looked. It wasn't who he was, and it was funny that she knew him well enough to make that particular assessment with such conviction.

A dark smirk stretched his lips. "You look good enough to eat," he told her, and she felt his finger lightly trace the slit of her lace covered vagina.

Hermione half gasped, and half moaned, at the unexpected touch. She had to reach out with both hands to steady herself on his smooth broad shoulders.

"Touch me," he commanded, his breath fanning across her face.

Hermione was about to tell him that she was, until his real meaning sank in. Her eyes dropped to the front of his trousers, his bulge unmistakable.

She trailed her fingers from his shoulder, down over his chest and abs, relishing the feel of every dip and hard line. She scrapped her nails along his happy trail of golden hair, watching his stomach tense and then collapse. Her exploration came to an abrupt stop as she reached the waist band of his trousers, and she hesitated, blushing furiously.

_You've done this before. This time is no different. Touch him._

Either feeling impatient, or too eager, Draco grabbed her hand and pressed her palm against his hardness. "Do you feel that?" he asked voice low and gravelly. "This is what you do to me, Hermione. Just looking at you like this gets me so hard."

Hermione's core clenched at his words and a deep throb began to pulse at the apex of her thighs.

Good grief. If he kept talking to her like this she would surely pass out from being overly aroused - if that was even possible. She felt like she could at this moment. Her whole body was throbbing in sync with her rapid heartbeats, and her head was swimming dizzyingly.

"Draco," she pleaded, sounding breathless, trying to convey what it was that she was feeling, and what she wanted from him.

Draco growled deeply, and crashed his lips against hers, knowing exactly what she wanted. One hand came up to thread through her hair, cradling the back of her head, while the other grabbed her hip, pulling her flush against him.

They kissed ferociously, their need for one another taking over and robbing all reasonable thinking.

His lips were hard and bruising, and his hands were rough and untamed.

It was just what Hermione needed. She didn't want him to be gentle, she wanted him raw and uninhibited. She wanted his body to take over and his mind to take a back seat.

Both of Draco's hands came up to cup her breasts, kneading them firmly. He pinched her nipples between his fingers, and dragged the blunt nail of his thumbs over the harden little nubs.

" _Ah_ ," Hermione cried out, arching her back.

She reached down with shaky hands and unbuckled his belt, pulling it through the supporting loops and throwing it across the room.

Draco's lips left a hot trail from her mouth, to her jaw, to the pulse point at her neck, before sucking powerfully. He pressed his tongue flat against the forceful thrum of her heartbeat and licked a line all the way up to her ear. "Your heart is racing," he breathed, sending shivers dancing across her skin. She swallowed thickly. "And so is mine," he added after a brief pause, bringing her left hand up to his chest and placing it directly over his heart. And sure enough, it was. It was beating so fast it was almost vibrating. "Only you do this to me," he confessed so quietly she almost thought she'd imagined it.

Did he really just say that? Perhaps he'd had more to drink than she'd originally thought.

Hermione didn't want to think about how his words made her feel, it was a dangerous thought, one she shouldn't be entertaining. Instead she pressed her lips against his, squeezing her eyes shut against the sudden onslaught of unwanted emotions. Her fingers fumbled more desperately at the opening of his trousers, and once she finally got the zipper down, she yanked them, along with his boxes, over his arousal.

Draco shoved them the rest of the way down his thighs, and kicked them off. He lifted her up then, so that her legs wrapped around his waist, his cock pressing against her core, causing them both to moan in unison.

"Draco, I want..." she trailed off.

"What?" he asked, eyes burning into hers.

"I want you," she told him quietly, as if she was imparting a great secret. Their forehead, nose and lips were just touching making it feel private and personal.

He smiled. "You can have me, but first, I want to taste you."

"Taste me?" she asked, and he walked over to what was presumably his bed, and threw her on top of it.

Hermione squealed and laughed as Draco crawled his way up the bed. "Wait," she giggled. "I've still got my shoes on, just let me take them off."

She leaned down to unfasten them, but Draco grabbed her wrist. "Not on your life," he said, throatily.

Hermione smirked. "Ah ha, so Draco Malfoy has a thing for girls in heels?"

"No. He has a thing for  _you_  in heels," he corrected her, not missing a beat. "Heels, and nothing else," he added, reaching up to pull her knickers down.

"Good answer," she breathed, lifting her hips to accommodate him.

Then, without warning, Draco's mouth was on her. Hot, wet, and  _oh so fucking good_.

Eyes rolling to the back of her head, Hermione threw herself back against his pillow, the delicious scent that was so undeniable  _him_  ensnaring and bewitching her senses. If she died right now, she would be a very happy gal indeed.

Draco was savage in his quest to completely annihilate her. He spread her thighs wide apart and pinned them to the bed, effectively preventing her from moving, his mouth not leaving her clitoris for even a second. He licked, sucked and nipped her into a panting, writhing mess, and only when she was screaming and begging him to finish her, did he thrust two fingers deep inside her, curling them to brush against her sweet spot.

" _Oh my fucking god_!" she cried out, voice deep and guttural, as her orgasm tore through her with devastating waves. " _Draco!_ "

Draco hummed deeply, allowing her to grind herself against his face. She rode it out, the fingers of his free hand digging into the skin on her thigh. "Fuck, Hermione," he murmured against her. "I need to be inside you."

Hermione felt him kiss the inside of each one of her thighs before he knelt up between her legs, looking down at her. She glanced to where his hand was lightly stoking the long thick length of his cock, which was flushed and straining.

_That was for her. He was aroused because of her._

He moved on top of her, claiming her lips and tangling his tongue with hers. She could taste herself all over and around his mouth.

"I'm going to fuck you hard, Hermione," he told her, almost clinically. "I'm going to fuck you so  _good_  and so  _hard_  that you'll remember this night for the rest of your life."

This was one of those moments where Hermione would usually tell him to go and deflate his huge head, but she knew he was right, and the realization almost sent her into a full-blown panic attack. What Draco didn't realize was that it wasn't just this night that she would remember for the rest of her life, but all of their other encounters since that fateful night, too.

Shit... _Shit._

Draco suddenly thrust into her, and she let out a long broken moan, arms coming up to wrap around his neck. She buried her fingers into the short hair at the nape of his head, and stared up into his face.

 _What are you doing to me?_  She wanted to ask him. _What are you fucking doing to me?_

Eerily, he gave her a crooked smile, as if knowing what she was thinking... but that couldn't be.

As promised, it was good  _and_  hard -  _very much so_. He thrust into her so deeply it almost felt like they became one. It was one of the best feelings ever.

Hermione completely lost herself in him. She allowed her pleasure to fully take over and carry her away like leaves in a storm. Everything about it was heavenly, his face pressed into her neck, breath huffing across sweat slicked skin, which caused goose bumps and tingles to dance across her flesh. His hips pumped ferociously, his thrusts hard and punishing. She never wanted it to end.  _None of it_. She wanted to bask in this very moment forever.

"Fuck," Draco eventually growled. "I'm going to come.  _Fuck_."

His words ignited something in her, and the tight bundle of nerves right at Hermione's core suddenly erupted, as if by his command. She cried out hoarsely, her whole body arching off the bed.

Draco groaned deeply, his own climax gripping him and exploding in an intense shower of pleasure.

They panted against each other's skin, breaths deep and ragged, as they slowly came down from their high.

After a few minutes, Draco pulled out of her and rolled onto his back. They both stared up at the underside of his canopy, silence pressing in on them.

Hermione wasn't sure how long they lay there like that - minutes? hours? - But sometime later she slowly got up and straddled him, staring down into watchful grey eyes.

It didn't take long, she had him hard within seconds. She held him firmly in her grip, before lowering her hips and impaling herself on him.

She rode him slowly and deliberately, with gentle rolls and swirls of her hips.

Draco didn't try to take over, or question what she was doing, instead he followed her lead. Carefully running his hands up her thighs and gently palming her breast.

Hermione didn't take her eyes off his face. She relished every expression, and every little gasp that escaped his parted lips. He didn't take his eyes from her either.

It might not have been quick and desperate like all of the other times they had done it, but it was more intense,  _more intimate_. It should have been terribly awkward, yet somehow it wasn't. Not in the moment, anyway.

Hermione rode him for close to forty minutes, their pleasure slowly building in strength and intensity, until they were both breathless and trembling.

When Draco came, he gritted out Hermione's name, his face contorting in sweet agony.

It was one of the most beautiful things Hermione had ever seen, and she imprinted the image to memory, locking it away safely where no one could find it.

* * *

Hermione stirred, letting out a low groan as she languidly stretched out her limbs.

She felt...  _peculiar_ \- not quite herself.

She slowly cracked open one eye - testing the waters so to speak - and then the other.

Instant pain radiated through her skull, and she quickly squeezed them shut again.

 _Bloody hell!_  It felt like a herd of Hippogriff's had used her forehead as a landing strip.

Whining, Hermione flung her arm out to the side in search of her wand -  _it must be around here somewhere_  - when her fingers suddenly connected with something large, warm, and decidedly solid.

Her eyes flew open in alarm, and she let out a somewhat loud, and rather undignified, squeak. She snatched her hand away, almost falling backwards through the hangings around her bed.

What the _hell_ was that?

Hermione frantically searched the folds of the thick duvet until she felt what she was looking for.

"Ah ha!  _Lumos_ ," she muttered.

A weak, barely-there, shaft of light penetrated the dull-grey morning light that surrounded her.

_What the hell?_

She frowned in confusion, and shook her wand - like _that_  would help - before trying again. " _Lumos_ ," she commanded more firmly this time, and a bright beam of light erupted from the tip before dimming and flickering feebly.

Hermione sucked in a sharp breath, and promptly spluttered as it got lodged in her throat.

What on earth was wrong with her wand? She gazed down at it, panic surging through her veins, before she realized that the wand she was holding wasn't actually hers.

_Huh?_

She squinted her eyes, bringing it up to her face so that she could examine it more closely.

The wand she was holding was Malfoy's, which must mean...

She cast what little light she could conjure across the bed, and gasped when it landed on a soundly sleeping Draco Malfoy.

_Oh dear god._

Her heart began to thud wildly, so wildly that she was sure if she looked down she would see it protruding out of her chest.

How the fuck had she managed to sneak Malfoy into her dorm room? Not only was it impossible given that the staircase was enchanted, but she shared a room with  _Lavender_. Nothing got passed that nosy cow.

Hermione's heart stuttered at the thought, and she frantically scanned her surroundings, her emotions quickly approaching hysteria.

_Green bed sheets._

Wait a minute...

_Green curtains._

That definitely wasn't normal...

_Slytherin coat of arms._

Jesus  _fucking_  Christ! She was in the snake's pit!

Hermione's head began to swim alarmingly, and she pitched forward on her hands not knowing whether to throw up or pass out. Both seemed a possibility at this point.

She groaned as she suddenly realized how naked she was -  _thoroughly, completely, entirely -_ this couldn't be happening.

How did she get down here? Had Malfoy taken her hostage? He must have, because surely she wouldn't have agreed to something as monumentally stupid as this.

She cast her mind back trying to remember everything that had happened the night before.

_Slughorn's Christmas party. Malfoy in a suit. Punch - lots of punch. Malfoy looking devilishly handsome. Cormac McLaggen. Standing in front of Malfoy in an alcove. Kissing Malfoy. Sucking Malfoy's..._

"Oh my  _God_ ," Hermione fell back on the bed, and covered her eyes in embarrassment.

Had she really done that? _In an alcove?_  Where anyone could have walked past and seen them?

Merlin! What was she thinking?!

She could distinctly remember Malfoy's reluctant gaze as he stared down at her, clearly conveying his misgivings, which only made the whole thing even more embarrassing. Yes, his reluctance hadn't lasted long, and his attempt to dissuade her had been feeble at best, but  _still_.

Hermione felt like dying, yet somehow managed to resist the call of death.  _Just_.

She remembered how Malfoy had called her by her first name,  _Hermione_ , like he'd always referred to her as such. She could recall the way it rolled off his tongue with that sensual aristocratic tone of his. It was utterly alluring, and she'd found herself demanding he say it again... and again...  _and again_.

Hermione bit her bottom lip, and closed her eyes as her stomach began to quiver - oh great, the pesky butterflies were clearly back with a vengeance.

She had also called him by his first name, in fact she had been the one to initiate the whole thing.

None of this explained how she'd ended up here though... How did she get down here? She could remember little fragments, but she wasn't sure if it was a dream or not. It definitely seemed dream-like.

Merlin, she shouldn't have drunk so much.

Think, Hermione,  _think_!

Draco had sneaked her into the Slytherin common room under a  _Disillusionment_  charm. Yes, that happened. Hermione could remember him and Pansy arguing, before she made her way down to his dorm to wait for him. There was Merpeople... She scrunched up her face.  _Merpeople?_  Impossible... Then she remember the huge window looking out under the Great Lake, and suddenly, as if a tap had been turned on, her mind flooded with the memory of everything else that followed.

She remembered it all, _in stark clarity_ , and she felt her heart expand in her chest as her body was suddenly engulfed in a sensory overload.

Hermione replayed the whole night over and over again, until she was blushing so fiercely she felt like she might actually set on fire.

She didn't know what to think, she didn't know how to process  _any_  of it. Last night had been... amazing. Amazing seemed like an extremely poor word for what she was feeling, but she was finding it hard to articulate.

_What did it all mean?_

She shook her head, trying to clear it. Now was not the time for this.

She glanced around again.  _God_. She hadn't meant to spend the night here. She had planned to leave way before any of Draco's friends got back.

Did they know she was here? No, absolutely not. If they did she wouldn't still be lay in Draco's bed.

Hermione groaned, and scrubbed her face with her hands.

She wondered what time it was now, perhaps she could sneak out before any of them woke up? Or better yet, maybe they never came back last night? She perked up at the thought, but then, as if on cue, someone let out a low muffled groan, and Hermione instantly deflated.

"Fucking hell. I feel like death," came a deep croaky voice. "Draco, are you up? I need help."

Hermione stiffened, eyes going wide.

 _Shit_.

" _Draco_?" the voice called again, louder and whinier this time. "You owe me for being a sod last night."

Hermione reached out and whacked Draco a good one. He didn't even flinch.

Holy shit. She had no idea whose voice that belonged to, but she desperately hoped that they stayed in their own bed and didn't come over to investigate. Thankfully, whoever it was, didn't sound like they were in any condition to go anywhere. God, what would they say if they saw Hermione Granger naked in Draco's bed? Or more importantly, what would they  _do?_

"What's he done now?" came an entirely different voice, sounding thoroughly amused.

"He left the party at a ridiculously unreasonable hour - as in the party had barely started - and I got left having my ear chewed off by Daphne."

"Really? That's not like him. Did he leave with someone?"

"I'm not sure. It's highly possible. I mean, why else would he leave early if not to get his end away? He was acting a bit strange all night though. I saw him having a go at Granger at one point."

"For?"

"Haven't the foggiest. I assume for daring to breathe the same air as him."

Hermione scowled, but couldn't find it in her to be too angry. At least they didn't know the truth.

She deduced that the first voice belonged to Blaise Zabini, seeing as he was the one who Draco had been at the party with. She still wasn't sure whom the second voice belonged to, but she'd wager it was Theodore Nott. The three of them were always together, so it made perfect sense.

Hermione could hardly believe that she was in the Slytherin dungeons, in one of the 6th year boy's dormitories, and not just any 6th year boys dormitory, but Draco Malfoy's, Blaise's Zabini's and Theodore Nott's - the school's notorious bad boys. It was surreal to say the least. In fact she felt kind of lightheaded and a little nauseous just thinking about it.

What should she do? Surely Zabini and Nott wouldn't come over here? They would wait for Draco to get up. She was safe.  _Hopefully_.

Hermione tried to relax a little. All she had to do was wait it out. They would probably go to breakfast soon anyway.

She turned to look at the still sleeping boy next to her.

Draco was lay on his stomach with both arms under his pillow, his head turned towards her. He didn't have a stitch of clothing on, just like Hermione, but he also didn't have anything covering him. She couldn't help wondering if he was cold.

Hermione glanced at the duvet, which was all tangled and bunched up on her side of the bed.

_Oh._

Apparently he had no choice in the matter.

Ginny had told Hermione on numerous occasions that she hogged the quilt, but she hadn't believed the youngest Weasley. It was kind of hard to deny it now though with the evidence staring her right in the face.

Hermione turned back to the blond, running her eyes up the entire length of his body, memories of the night before flitting through her mind as if on a Muggle picture reel. Her heart skipped a beat, and she squeezed her eyes shut, forcing them back. They were too much to handle in her current state, she couldn't think about what they meant right now.

After a few second, she opened her eyes again, and carefully took in the fair dusting of hair on the back of his legs that slowly thinned out to nothing about halfway up his thighs. Oh, how she loved his creamy flawless skin, it was so different to her olive freckled complexion.

She eyed the perfect contour of his bottom, and felt the sudden urge to reach out and squeeze it. She blushed at the absurd thought.

Finally, her eyes landed on his face, and totally unaware that she was doing so, she smiled. He looked so peaceful. All his harshness was gone to be replaced with a soft child-like sweetness. He looked like an angel who had fallen from heaven with his blond hair and sharp chiselled features.

"Theo? Go and give Draco a nudge, will you?" Presumably-Blaise asked on a thick yawn, interrupting Hermione's musings.

Hermione's eyes almost bugged out of her head.

"Piss off. You're closer," Theo grumbled. "Also, I don't fancy being on the receiving end of his wrath. I ended up in the infirmary last time I tried waking him up."

Blaise burst out laughing, obviously recalling the aforementioned incident.

"It's not funny," Theo growled. "It's the last time I ever wake him up when he's late for class.  _Dick head_."

"You know, I think he's probably got someone in there with him," Blaise divulged, his tone suspicious. "I just remembered when I got back last night, the dormitory door was warded to the high-heavens, and I was so bloody intoxicated that I couldn't get in for around half an hour. In fact, I almost slept outside."

"Interesting," Theo hummed.

Hermione began to shake Draco frantically, and when that didn't work, she proceeded to pummel his back.

_Shit. Shit. Shit. They were going to get caught!_

Finally, Draco let out a deep extended groaned, scrunching up his face. "What the -?"

Hermione slapped a hand over his mouth, and his eyes flew open, looking thoroughly startled and oh-so-grey.

She put her index finger to her lips - the universal sign to shut up and be quiet - and then pointed at the curtains.

Draco's eyes flicked to where she was indicating, and he frowned, shoving her hand away as he flopped over onto his back, letting out a low pain-filled moan. "Fuck _me_ ," he pressed his fingers to his temples and winced. "Who used my head as a Quaffle?"

" _Ssshhhh_ ," she hissed, slapping her hand over his mouth for the second time in less than a minute.

Draco scowled, and pulled her hand away. "Can you please stop that?" he asked, sounding more than a little irritated.

She sighed in exasperation, and glared at him.  _Stupid idiot_.

"Are you always this pleasant in the morning?" he asked, tone dripping with sarcasm, "because you leave much to be desired."

Hermione stared at him in sheer panic before glancing at the hangings around his bed, fully expecting them to be yanked open at any moment.

Draco propped his head up on his arms and gazed at her, like one would gaze at a particularly weird looking insect that they'd never seen before.

Letting out a frustrated growl, Hermione frantically untangled the duvet, and threw it over them both before disappearing beneath it.

Draco raised a brow at the Hermione sized lump. "What on earth are you doing?" he asked, lifting the quilt to gaze at her sceptically.

"Will you  _please_  shut up," she whispered as quietly as she could. "Your friends are awake.  _They can hear you_."

Draco eyed her shrewdly, and glanced at the curtains surrounding his bed.

"They have been calling your name," Hermione breathed, face poking out of the duvet. "And they suspect you have someone in here with you."

She imagined she looked completely ridiculous, but this wasn't the time to be worried about it.

Draco pressed his lips together suppressing a grin.

"They're going to come over here," Hermione disappeared beneath the cover again. "You need to do something," she pinched his side, hoping it would wipe the smirk off his face, and kick him into action.

"Ow!" he growled, angrily snatching the quilt off her. "Do you think I'm a fucking idiot? I cast a  _silencing_  charm last night. I mean,  _really_ , I had no choice. You snore like an angry troll."

Hermione huffed, indignantly. "I do  _not_  snore."

"How the fuck would you know?" he demanded. "And while we're on the subject, you can add bed and quilt hogging to your list of hogging tendencies. I'm surprised I didn't freeze to death last night."

They continued to bicker - Hermione in sharp hushed tones, regardless of the fact that she'd been told there was a  _silencing_  charm in place, and Draco in loud abrasive timbres - each pulling on either end of the duvet, until Draco suddenly let go.

Hermione gasped, flying backwards.

It all seemed to happen in a blink of an eye, one minute Hermione was in the private confines of Draco's bed, and the next minute she wasn't.

She landed with a dull thud on the dormitory floor, and froze in complete shock. Draco's shocked face appeared over the edge a split second later, staring down at her, mouth hanging open.

"What the hell?" came Blaise's confused voice.

Hermione's head whipped around expecting to see Zabini staring at her, but the hangings around his bed, and all the other beds, were still drawn.

The relief that flooded through her was so intense she almost passed out on the spot. She was quite certain that her dignity wouldn't have survived a blow like that.

Draco leaned down, and quickly pulled her back onto his bed, before pulling the curtains tightly shut.

"Draco? Was that you?" Theo asked. "What the fuck are you doing? Is someone in there with you?"

There was the sound of curtains opening, and someone getting out of bed.

Draco popped his head outside the hangings. " _No!_  Fuck off!" he bellowed. "I'm trying to sleep. If either of you come over here, I promise you, you'll regret it."

"Charming," Theo deadpanned. "You're always so joyous in the morning, Draco. What's your secret?" He waited for a response, but when one didn't come he sighed. "Well, seeing as I'm up I'm going to breakfast. You coming Blaise?"

Blaise gagged. "Are you joking?  _No_. I'm far too hungover. The thought of food makes me want to throw up. In fact -" there was a low groan and a bang, followed by a series of rapid footsteps. A door opened and then slammed closed, and the muffled sound of retching could be heard throughout the dormitory.

Nott quickly left after that, and Draco and Hermione were suddenly alone.

They stared at one another for long moments - Hermione clutching the duvet to her naked body, whilst Draco simply sat back and let it all hang out.  _Literally_.

She had no idea what to say to him. She suddenly felt unbelievably awkward and out of place. Maybe it was because she was in his bed, in unknown territory. Or perhaps it was because her mind still felt fuzzy from all the alcohol she'd consumed the night before.

Of course, Hermione knew these weren't  _really_ the reasons why she was feeling so goddamn uncomfortable. No. She was just reeling off other small possibilities in hopes that they would distract her from what was really bothering her.

"Well, I guess I should probably go then," she muttered, glancing up at him through her eyelashes.

Draco simply stared at her, his face unreadable.

_Was he feeling awkward to?_

_Did he want her to go?_

_Did he want her to stay?_

_What was he **bloody**  thinking?_

"Where are my clothes?" she asked, when it was clear that he wasn't going to say anything, let alone stop her from leaving.

Draco carelessly jerked his chin towards the end of the bed, where a messy pile of clothes could be seen poking out from beneath a discarded pillow.

Hermine frowned at his nonchalant response.

_Was he angry with her?_

Hermione debated whether to ask him if anything was wrong, but decided against it. Instead, she gathered her clothes in her arms, blushing. Was he just going to watch her get dressed?

Sensing her discomforted, Draco turned away from her and grabbed a pair of loose sleep trousers. He pulled them on, and began fiddling with something on his bedside table, whilst Hermione slipped on her dress from the night before.

 _Classy_. She never imagine herself doing The Walk of Shame, but alas, here she was about to do just that.

"Um," she started, feeling her chest constrict with mortification. "Have you seen my knickers anywhere?"

 _Jesus Christ_. Why was this so embarrassing? After everything they had done the night before she shouldn't be embarrassed about asking where her knickers had got to.

Draco turned to look at her and shook his head, a peculiar look on his face.

"Ah, well, never mind -" Hermione pressed her lips together, "- if you find them, could you..." she trailed off.

Draco raised a brow. "Give them back to you?" he finished for her.

"Yes, if you don't mind," she leaned down to fasten her strappy sandals, but hesitated, staring at them, her and Draco's teasing lust-filled conversation from the night before echoing in her mind.

_"Ah, so Draco Malfoy has a thing for girls in heels?"_

_"No. He has a thing for **you**  in heels. Heels and nothing else."_

Hermione swallowed and glanced up to find him staring at her heels, his jaw tight. Their eyes met for a brief moment - his as ominous as a storm-grey sky - before they both looked away. Hermione in in irritation.

"Those knickers are my favourite ones and part of a set," she continued, hoping to clear the awkward atmosphere.

"No problem," he pulled the curtains open and stood up. He turned to look at her, eyes intense and unyielding, and held his hand out to her.

She took it, allowing him to help her scramble off the bed. Her eyes didn't stray from his face, as she attempted to work out what he was thinking, but it was impossible. His face was an impenetrable mask.

"Do you remember what they look like?" she asked him. "My knickers, I mean. They're black lace with red trimming."

_Oh, for crying out loud! Just shut up about your fucking knickers!_

Whenever she was nervous she started to ramble. It was just unfortunate that the focus of her current ramblings was her knickers of all things.

"I remember," he told her, expression unchanged.

"Excellent," she gushed in a false cheery tone.

Draco tilted his head to the side, and gave her a deeply assessing look. He was probably wondering why she was acting like such a loon. She wanted to tell him that it was because of him. It was all his fault!

There was the distant sound of a toilet flushing, followed by the shower being turned on.

"Draco, I'm dying," came Blaise's muffled, yet solemn, declaration through the closed bathroom door. Both Draco and Hermione turned to stare at it. "I seriously doubt I'm going to pull through this time. Tell my mother I love her, and make sure I'm cremated; the thought of my body rotting in the ground isn't one I like to entertain. I want my ashes scattered along the French Riviera, near that spot where we used to play as kids..."

Hermione frowned. "Is he always this melodramatic?" she asked, turning to glance at Draco as she listened to Blaise continue to reel off his dying wishes. He wanted Draco to have his clothes, because apparently the blond didn't take enough risks when it came to fashion -  _Black was boring, and there was nothing wrong with a hint of pink here and there_  - and he wanted Theo to have his aftershave, simply because  _"he stinks"._

"No," Draco answered, sounding resigned. "He's far worse."

"Oh," Hermione said, surprise colouring her tone. How strange. Blaise had always seemed just as serious and harsh as Draco was, she would never have thought he was like this - a drama queen, that is - oh those sneaky Slytherin's. "My condolences," she added, meaning it.

The shower suddenly turned off, and Blaise could be heard shuffling around, moaning to himself.

Draco was about to open his mouth and say something, but Hermione beat him to it.

"Thank you," she said in a rush.

Draco pushed his tongue into his cheek, and narrowed his eyes at her.

Thank you?  _Thank you?!... Why the fuck did she say thank you?_ Of all the things she could have said.

Hermione cast a swift _Disillusionment_  charm on herself, and vanished on the spot. It was either that, or die.

She watched his eyes, sharp and oh-so-silver, scanned the area where she had just been standing, a deep line between his eyebrows.

Hermione reached out a hand to smooth it away, but at the last second decided against it, it had been a weird morning, and an even weirder night. The best thing she could do now was leave so that she could gather her senses, and work out what the fuck was going on here. With that decided she turned around and opened the door, casting one final longing look behind her.

* * *

Hermione made it out of the snakes pit and all the way up to her room unnoticed. Thankfully, the hangings around Lavender's bed were still closed, and Hermione breathed a sigh of relief as she grabbed a fresh change of clothes before heading into the bathroom for a shower.

She took her time washing her hair. Massaging shampoo into her roots and bringing it all the way down to the ends. She rinsed, and then smothered a huge dollop of conditioner all over - which was a necessity for curly hair like hers - and left it to soak in while she methodically cleaned her body with her favourite coconut soap. Then again with the new almond shower oil that she'd ordered last week.

After she'd finished thoroughly rinsing the conditioner out, she stepped out of the cubical and wrapped herself in her big fluffy towel, the one that her mum had gotten her especially for school that year.

Hermione turned towards the long mirror on the far wall, which was steamed up and dripping with condensation, and stared at her distorted reflection.

She wasn't sure how long she stood there, but the longer she did, the more the girl staring back at her looked like a total stranger.

"Who are you?" she breathed.

"I'm Hermione Granger," the enchanted mirror responded.

Hermione smirked -  _you had to love Hogwart_ s. Her eyes dropped to the huge purple bruise on the side of neck, and she squeezed her eyes shut against the onslaught of emotions it evoked. No. She shoved them away, burying them deeply. She wasn't ready to address them yet.

"Hermione, is that you in there?" came Lavender's impatient tone.

"Yes," she called. "I'll be out in a minute."

"Hurry up!"

Hermione rolled her eyes and grabbed her wand, quickly healing the bruise on her neck, something that she had recently learned to do. She then pointed her wand at her hair, and muttered a  _hot-air_  charm, followed by a  _smoothing_  charm. In a matter of seconds her hair was dry, the curls as wild as ever despite her attempt to smooth them.

When she left the bathroom a few minutes later, dressed and ready to face the day, she was met with an ugly sneer from Lavender.

Hermione instantly wished that she had taken her time, and stayed in there longer.

* * *

Hermione avoided thinking about Draco all of Sunday, which was a feat considering he popped up in her head a least every second minute.

She sat in the library most of the day, trying to finish off her essays for Charms and Transfiguration, but all she ended up doing was fighting off thoughts of Draco.

It was  _exhausting_. So much so, that she slept right through her alarm on Monday morning, missing breakfast as well as being fifteen minutes late to Potions.

"Ah, Miss Granger," Professor Slughorn greeted her. "I was wondering where you were."

"Sorry, Professor," Hermione blushed as everyone in the class turned to gaze at her. "I missed my alarm."

Several pairs of eyes widened, and Hermione could just imagine what they were thinking. ' _Hermione Granger sleeping through her alarm?Shocking.' 'What insanity is this?'_

"Not to worry," Professor Slughorn smiled. "It happens to the best of us. Please take a seat, we are going over last week's brew."

Hermione glanced around the room, and found there was only two seats left to choose from. One next to Ron, and the other next to Draco.

She looked up to the ceiling.  _Really?_  she wanted to yell at whichever deity would listen.

She was about to take the seat next to Ron, but after a particularly viscous glare from Lavender, and the undeniable way in which Ron carefully avoided her gaze -  _Bastard! -_  Hermione decided to sit next to Draco instead. It was either that, or murder Ron and Lavender and get sent to Azkaban.

When she sat down next to the blond he merely glanced at her, his left eyebrow twitching as if it was dying to crawl up his forehead.

Hermione pursed her lips at him, and flicked her hair over her shoulder. On the outside she looked entirely indifferent to the situation. Yet, on the the inside she was writhing mess of nerves and hormones.

Bloody hell, why did he have to look so bloody good?  _Damn._

She should have just sat next to Ron and committed the double murder. Azkaban wouldn't be  _that_  bad, right?

Hermione silently endured her internal sufferings, whilst pretending to listen to Professor Slughorn, when in actual fact she was obsessively watching Draco out of the corner of her eye.

Of course, he looked totally unaffected and uninterested in anything that was going on around him.  _Arsehole_. She felt like slapping him. She was certain that if she did it would make her feel instantly better.

"Miss Granger?" Slughorn said, suddenly appearing right next to her.

Hermione jumped and nearly fell sideways off her chair, into Draco.

Professor Slughorn eyed her dubiously. "Are you all right?"

"Yes," she rushed to assured him. "Sorry, Professor. I'm having a difficult morning, that's all."

Hermione heard a low snort directly to her right, and gritted her teeth.

Slughorn gave her a sympathetic look before continuing on. "Your Hiccoughing Solution was nearly perfect, the colour was just a  _little_  off," to indicate, he held up his thumb and forefinger slightly apart. "I suggest you crush the Flitterbloom next time instead of chopping it."

He handed over her potion, and she took it feeling utterly dejected. She had been sure that it was perfect this time.

"Excellent work, Mr Malfoy," he said to Draco, his tone dripping with praise. "Ten points to Slytherin."

Hermione scowled as the Professor place the blonds " _excellent_ " potion in front of her, clearly expecting her to pass it on. She glared at it, wishing it would explode.

"Do you mind?" Draco asked, pointing to his potion.

Hermione sneered at the phial before shoving it towards him with more force than she'd intended.

" _Thank you,_ " he said, overly emphasizing the words.

Hermione turned to him slowly, her face flaming crimson. Of course he would tease her about her parting words to him yesterday morning. He just couldn't let it slide, could he?  _Bastard!_

Draco turned back to the front of the class, biting his bottom lip and grinning like a fool.

* * *

Hermione's day only got worse after that.

In Herbology, she got a 2nd degree burn from a Fire Seed Bush, and in Transfiguration she turned the bottom half of Neville into a cow - udders and all - instead of a horse. She didn't even want to think about the jug full of pumpkin juice that Ginny had knocked over her at dinner.

Yes, she was having one of  _those_  days, so it was no surprise that when Draco casually strolled passed her much later that night, minding his own business, she finally snapped.

"Malfoy!" she exploded. "What are you doing?"

Draco stopped dead in his tracks and turned to gaze at her, eyes narrowed. There were three Ravenclaw students just ahead of him who also stopped to stare at her, but she paid them no mind.

"It's almost curfew," Hermione told him authoritatively. "Why aren't you back in your house common room?"

The Ravenclaw students all turned to gape at one another, and then quickly ran off in the direction of Ravenclaw tower.

Hermione watched them go, a self-satisfied smirk making its way onto her face before she turned back to the blond and levelled her gaze on him.

Draco crossed his arms and tilted his head to the side, carefully regarding her. She could see the wheels turning in his head, and wondered what he was thinking. She hoped he was on the same wavelength as her because she was desperate for some sort of release after the day she'd had. "What are you going to do, Prefect Granger? Tell me off? Deducted some house points?" he asked, his tone low and mocking.

Hermione dragged in a slow breath, and ran her eyes up the entire length of his body, taking in his solid stance. He looked far too calm and arrogant for her liking, and that simply wouldn't do. "I should -" she answered darkly, stepping towards him, "- but it depends."

"On what?" he shot back, not missing a beat, his steady gaze tracking her movements like a predator would track its prey.

Hermione stopped in front of him, leaving only an inch between them. "On how well you please me," she looked up at him through her eyelashes, conveying her meaning loud and clear.

" _Please_  you?" he asked, eyebrow raised.

"That's what I said," she countered.

Draco narrowed his eyes, his tongue flicking out to lick his bottom lip. "Are you blackmailing me?" he asked, giving her a mildly incredulous look. " _For sex?_ "

"Maybe," she reached up and placed her hand on his chest.

He suspiciously glanced down at it and then back up to her face. "How very Slytherin of you."

Hermione blinked at his off-hand comment, not knowing how to feel about it. Slytherin?  _No_. "Well, I thought you liked to play dirty?" she asked, a small line appearing between her brows.

He let out an amused puff of air. "Oh, I do," he assured her. "I just didn't think you did."

Hermione shrugged. "I guess you're rubbing off on me," she dragged her fingernail over his clothed nipple, and relished the way his jaw tensed.

"I can see that," he gritted, clenching his fists at his sides. "So, let me get this straight. If I don't  _please_  you, you're going to deduct house points?"

Her eyes flicked up to his, but she didn't say anything.

"Isn't that abusing your prefect privileges?" he questioned, judging her harshly.

Hermione smirked. "I'd say I'm utilizing them to their full advantage."

"Well," he began, disbelief colouring his tone. "I did not expect this kind of behaviour from Hogwart's golden girl. I'm not sure whether to be worried, or impressed."

"You should be both," she told him seriously.

"Duly noted," he muttered, giving her a thorough once-over as if suddenly seeing her in a new light. "So, what do you want me to do to please you then?"

Hermione tutted. "I can't tell you how disappointed I am that you have to ask. It seems I've overestimated you."

Draco gave her a narrow-eyed look. "I'm just checking we're on the same page, that's all," he informed her in a tone so honeyed it made her scalp prickle in warning. He reached out and gripped her hips, pulling her against him hard.

Hermione sucked in a surprised breath. "We are," she assured him firmly.

"We _were,"_ he corrected. "But after that little comment, not only are we not on the same page, weren't not even in the same book," he breathed against the shell of her ear. "To be clear, I'm going to completely  _ruin_  you for what you've just said, because unlike you  _I am_  a Slytherin, and I  _do_  play dirty. After I've finished with you, the only thing you'll be disappointed in is your inane ability to string simple words together."

Hermione barely had a chance to digest his words properly, before she was being dragged into an empty classroom and shoved against a desk.

She swallowed thickly, her nerves getting the better of her.  _Don't show any weakness. He'll prey on it. This is what he does. He's trying to unnerve you. He wants you to back down._ She glared up at him, eyes defiant.

Draco stared at her, long and hard, and no matter how much she tried she still felt herself crumbling under the weight of it.

 _How did he do that?_  Hermione wished she had the power to glare people into submission. It must be a Malfoy thing. She wondered if it was a prerequisite in his family -  _mastering_   _the Malfoy stare-down_  - and if you couldn't make people bend to your will without uttering a single word then you'd be instantly disinherited.

"Draco -" Hermione began, the unease in her voice unmistakable.

He brought his finger up to his lips and shushed her.

She blinked at him several times before snapping her mouth closed.

Draco stepped forward and pressed himself against her, his body a hard line. His lips hovered just above hers, not quite touching, and Hermione felt herself lean up - drawn to him like a moth to a flame - but as she did so he pulled away, denying her his lips.

Hermione felt an odd mixture of embarrassment, anger, and arousal surge through her veins. What the fuck was that? He'd never denied her before. She reached up, roughly grabbing him by the neck, and pulling him down. She felt victorious when his head began to lower under her forceful insistence, but it was short lived because as soon as his lips were only a hair's breadth away from her own he came to an abrupt stop.

She could feel his breath hot on her lips, and it was a wicked torture she never knew existed before now. She had never wanted to kiss someone as much as she wanted to kiss him in that moment.

"Is this your plan?" she angrily asked, "to deny me? I suppose you want me to beg for it? Well, I won't," she snarled.

Hermione wasn't wholly sure where the brunt of her anger was coming. She was angry about a lot of things, and her feelings for Draco -  _which she still hadn't addressed_  - were at the top of the list.

"You will," he told her so self-assured and confident that she couldn't help but scoff in the face of it.

It wasn't really fair to take it out on him, but she couldn't help it, besides he wasn't helping matters with his current refusal to kiss her. What exactly was he trying to achieve?

Hermione gazed into his eyes for long moments, his face so close to hers she could swear that her vellus hairs were touching his. She reached up, her fingertips brushing the barely-there stubble on his jaw. He didn't move away, or attempt to stop her, so she figured this was fair game. She ran her fingers over his cheekbone, so sharp and chiselled it could cut through stone, and up the side of his face to his forehead. She smoothed her thumb across it and then buried her hand in his short hair.

Draco's lips parted on a shallow intake of breathe when, after gently combing her fingers through his hair, she suddenly gripped it and pulled. Grasping at the brief opportunity presented to her, she thrust her tongue into his mouth, but instead of giving her what she so desperately wanted, he only sucked on it once before pushing her away.

Hermione felt utterly wild, her ravenous hunger for him clawing and tearing at her insides. If she thought being denied was bad, being teased was so much worse.

She lunged at him then, pushing herself up on her tiptoes, her lips chasing his. She pulled on his hair, his clothes, anything she could get her hands on, but through it all he remained  _just_  out of reach.

Hermione had never felt so frustrated in all her life, she needed his mouth like her lungs needed air, and if she didn't have it soon she felt she might die.

" _Draco_ ," she whined, the sound low and desperate.

God, how pathetic. It hadn't even been five minutes and she was already begging him. She felt her cheeks burn, yet couldn't find it in her to care all that much. She wanted him and there wasn't much she could do about it.

Draco dragged his lips along her jaw, towards her mouth -  _yes, yes!_  - and just as they were about to brush against hers, he spun her around and bent her over the desk.

_What?!_

Hermione tried to straighten, but he only pushed her down further until her chest was flat against the surface, his hand splayed between her shoulder blades.

The wood was cold against her heated cheek, and hard against her breasts. She was about to ask him what he was doing when she felt his free hand trail up the back of her thigh and lift her skirt.

Squeezing her eyes shut, Hermione kept still and stayed quiet, wondering where he was going with this. She felt his finger slip beneath the elastic of her knickers and pull the fabric to one side, fully exposing her.  _Oh god_. She clamped her legs together and wiggled, trying to hide herself.

"Stop," Draco commanded.

Hermione did as she was told, but not without a hearty amount of embarrassment. He could see _everything._ She tried not to think about the one particular place she had thought no one would  _ever_  see, and instead tried to focus on what his hand was doing, which was difficult seeing as he wasn't touching her any longer.

_What was he doing?_

She craned her neck, trying to look back at him, but it was hard with him pining her down, plus the lighting wasn't great either.

There was the unmistakable sound of a zip being pulled down, and then she felt him. Only it wasn't his hand, it was the blunt head of his cock, sliding between her wet folds.

Hermione hummed deeply, her embarrassment instantly forgotten, and stretched her arms out across the desk so that she could grip the edge.

He began to rub himself against her heated core, the tops of her thighs clamping around him and keeping him in place.

He felt thick and hard, and Hermione just wanted him inside her, thrusting powerfully.

God, what was wrong with her? When had she become such a sex fiend?

Draco continued on like that, his cock sliding between her folds, the head pressing against her clit and driving her to the verge of insanity. His pace remained the same, slow and steady, and didn't fault for even a second.

Hermione didn't want to beg, not outright, but the longer it went on the more she started to cave. She had always prided herself on her unshakable willpower, yet when it came to Draco Malfoy she seemed to have none, not an ounce, and it was truly sickening.

"Draco," she choked out. " _Please_."

Without a word, he pulled back and thrust straight into her, all the way to the hilt, and then continued the same maddening pace as before, only this time buried deep inside her.

Hermione groaned at the feel of him stretching her, it felt so much deeper this way. It almost took her breath away. Why hadn't they done it like this before? Everything felt...  _more_. More deep. More full. More raw. It felt like he was hitting her G-spot with every single thrust, and she wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing, because before she knew it her orgasm was creeping up on her.

"Oh God," she gasped, pushing back against him. "I'm... I'm -"

Draco pulled out of her and pried her legs open with his knees, preventing her from squeezing them shut.

"Draco!" she cried out angrily. "What...  _Why_  did you do that?"

He ignored her, and simply shoved her back down when she attempted to get up.

"What are you -" she began, but broke off on a gasp as he sank back into her again, continuing as if nothing had happened.

Hermione's pleasure, which had dwindled some, instantly spiked back up, and her anger ebbed.

It felt so good,  _so_  good.

Her orgasm built up a lot quicker than she thought it would, and within only a few minutes she was moaning and clawing at the desk beneath her. She felt as though she was leaning over a great precipice, about to fall into the dark depths of a torrid ocean.

" _Ugh_ ," she grunted, feeling her muscles lock as she neared completion.

Draco pulled out of her again, and she couldn't help the sharp cry of frustration that erupted from deep within her chest.

What. The. _Fuck?_

Hermione stared at her fingers, white from her death grip on the table's edge. This is what he had been talking about when he'd said he was going to completely ruin her. He hadn't been joking, he was actually trying to do it.

"Draco," her voice trembled with the realization. "Don't."

In response, he thrust back into her again, his pace more forceful and demanding this time.

Hermione groaned brokenly and pressed her damp forehead against the desk, feeling resigned to her fate. She took it without argument, and was swiftly brought right up to the edge again, her body screaming for release, only to be denied a third time.

It was torture, complete and utter torture.

This went on, and on,  _and on,_ until her body was wound so tight she thought she might pass out. Her voice was hoarse from shouting, and her body was trembling uncontrollably.

"You win," she sobbed and hour later. " _You win!_  Just please, no more! I can't take it."

Draco gripped her hips hard and picked up a quick, punishing pace, which had her moaning on one long drawn-out sound. She felt his hand come around, his finger rubbing light circles on her clit, adding to the wicked torment.

_Please, please, please, don't stop._

Hermione felt her orgasm approach for the 11th -12th? - time, and prayed that this would be it. That she would get the release she so sorely needed.

"Please," she cried, voice breaking. "Draco,  _please_."

"Come now," he gritted out gruffly, sounding just as broken as she did, and Hermione suddenly realized that this must have been just as bad for him as it was for her. Probably worse in-fact, because he had been fully in control, he'd been the one who had to force himself to stop each time. How had he done it? She wouldn't have been able to, she would have failed miserably.

When her orgasm hit, it was like nothing she had ever felt before. It was all her orgasms compressed into one. Every pleasure she'd ever felt drawn in to this moment with the sole purpose of destroying her.

Her body tensed and shook worryingly, and her legs gave out beneath her, all her energy draining in one fell swoop. If it wasn't for Draco holding her up, she would have ended up a writhing heap on the floor.

For a while, Hermione wasn't aware of anything, but herself and the after currents of pleasure dancing along her nerve endings. She felt completely wrung out, weightless, and unbelievably satiated.

When she finally came to, she was on her back on top of the desk, and Draco was staring down at her, looking as severe as ever.

Her forehead wrinkled, and she wanted to let out a disgruntled sound, but all that came out was a satisfied sigh.

"I have to go," he told her. "It's late."

How late? Where were they again? How on earth was she going to get back to her room?

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, and then closed it again, before simply patting him on the chest and closing her eyes.

Who was she kidding? She wasn't going anywhere. Not for a long time.

Sensing him leaning over her, she opened her tired eyes to gaze up at him. "I told you I would ruin you," he smirked.

Hermione spluttered as he moved away from her to the door. "No... You...  _Sly_  -" and just like he'd predicted, she couldn't even string a sentence together.  _Bloody hell._

Fine. She was ruined -  _utterly, completely_  - so what? She wasn't even that mad about it. It may have been torture, but now having come out of it on the other side and feeling like she currently did, she couldn't bring herself to say a bad thing about it.

Draco Malfoy could ruin her any day of the week. If only he would be a little less smug about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the late update *covers face with hands*. I went on holiday as you all know, but when I got back I was so busy with work and personal things that I just couldn't get around to writing. Then, when I finally did get round to it, I had a massive case of writers block. Mainly due to the fact that I was stressing myself out so much worrying how late the chapter was. I had to take a step back and calm down as everything I was writing was rushed, and I wasn't happy with it. I obviously didn't want to put out a chapter that I wasn't 100% happy with, so that's why it has taken me so long. I hope you understand. I've not abandoned this story. I'm going to see it through to the end, I promise.
> 
> My lovely beta (Black_Osmosis) and I, have been back and forth over the last month editing all chapters to date. I'm super happy with what we've done so far, we are currently up to chapter 7, and the rest should be finished in the next few weeks or so. Nothing has changed, she has just tidied up any grammatical errors, and asked me to reword a few things that didn't make sense or didn't flow as smoothly as the rest of the story. Now here's the thing, this chapter wasn't beta read because we figured that seeing as you guys have been waiting so long you'd rather have it sooner than later. So, with that being said, I hope you can overlook any little mistakes, and know that they will be fixed very soon :D
> 
> I really hope you enjoyed this chapter, I made it extra long (almost 12,000 words) to make up for my long absence. As always, I would love to hear your thoughts. I love interacting with you guys. Also, I'm getting way more active on Twitter nowadays, so come and find me on there :D DMHP2014. Hugs.


	12. Chapter 12

Draco made it about halfway down the corridor before he had to stop and lean heavily against the wall.

Fuck.

_Fuck!_

He repeatedly kicked his foot back against the stone wall, the sole of his shoe connecting with the uneven surface and making several dull thud sounds that reverberated throughout the corridor.

What a mess. What an absolute fucking  _mess_.

Draco wasn't sure what was going on between him and Hermione, but after the mind-fuck that was Saturday night, and now  _this_ , it wasn't fucking good, not by any means.

Saturday had been... he abruptly shut down the thought, and banged his head against the wall in frustration.  _No_. He couldn't go there, it was too dangerous.

He roughly rubbed a hand over his face and glanced up and down the corridor. It was dark, the only source of light coming from the moon outside the tall arched windows. It suffused everything it touched in a silvery glow and offered just enough luminosity so that he could make out where he was going without bumping into anything.

The thought of going to bed now and lying awake, staring at the underside of his canopy, was a distasteful one indeed. Hermione's scent still clung to his pillows and bed sheets, and he wasn't sure he could handle it right now.

_Stupid. Stupid. Stupid._

Draco pushed off from the wall and marched in the direction he had just come from. He stopped outside the classroom where Hermione was still recovering, contemplating whether he should go back inside and fuck her senseless again.

He wanted to. Christ, did he want to. But instead of giving in to his arguably foolish needs, he forced himself to move - one step after the other - until he was far, far away from her.

When he did finally stop walking, he found himself standing in front of the door to The Room of Requirement, but not just any door. This door lead to The Room of Hidden Things. He knew this because depending on what you required from the room, all manners of doors appeared, and he had seen this particular door - old and worn with the paint peeling off in places - enough times to know where it would take him.

With a deep fortifying breath he reached out and turned the handle before disappearing inside.

* * *

The next morning, Draco sat on his own at the Slytherin table, carefully sipping his coffee and staring blankly at nothing in particular.

Yet again, he'd failed to fix the cabinet, which wasn't surprising, really, considering he'd spent most of the night just staring at it. Draco still had no idea how to fix it, but he was quite certain that staring at it wouldn't do a damn thing to aid in his cause.

He was supposed to have the cabinet fixed before Christmas break, but there wasn't a chance in hell that was going to happen now. The majority of the school would be leaving to go home on Saturday, which was just four days from now, and he was no closer to fixing the stupid thing than he had been when he'd first started.

He wondered how angry the Dark Lord would be when he found out. Thankfully, Draco wouldn't be there to witness his wrath. He was staying at Hogwarts over Christmas break, for the first time ever, due to his mother's demands to  _not come home_. At the time, she hadn't said why she didn't want him home for Christmas, and Draco hadn't bothered to question it. What was the point when the answer was glaringly obvious? Of course, she was trying to keep him safe and out of harm's way, just like he was trying to keep her safe by following the Dark Lord's orders...

But that was the sickening thing, wasn't it? He hadn't really been following orders, not since he'd started this fling with Hermione. For the past six -  _seven?_  - weeks he'd barely spent any time fixing the cabinet. No. Instead he found himself constantly making up feeble excuses in his mind as to why he shouldn't go to The Room of Requirement tonight... or tomorrow, or the day after, or the day after that, or that weekend.

What was wrong with him? What  _the fuck_  was wrong with him? His mother was counting on him to get the job done!

God, he felt wretched. His mother was stuck in that hell-hole, with the evilest bastard who ever lived, waiting for Draco to save her, and instead of finishing what needed to be finished to get her out of there, he was gallivanting around with the enemy.

Hermione had called him despicable once - right now he couldn't help but agree with her. He was a despicable bastard who only cared about himself. It loathed him to think it, but clearly he was more like his father than he thought.

He felt so confused - about  _everything_. He didn't know what to do or what to think. As always, he felt alone in this, so fucking alone. He just wanted to talk to someone, tell them everything about what was going on and what he'd done, but there was no one.

Draco often thought about telling Blaise the whole story. He was his best friend after all, and loyal to a fault. Blaise would do anything for Draco, all the blond had to do was  _ask_ , but how could he put another family member in danger? They may not be blood related, but Blaise was the closest thing to a brother Draco had, and he was already vulnerable, being so close to the Malfoys and already knowing most of the Death Eaters. It would only be a matter of time before they tried to recruit him. Draco wouldn't burden his friend before then, he would keep him out of it because there was no going back once you were in the inner circle. It was like a black hole that sucked you up, only instead of spitting you out on the other side it kept you trapped in there until you were nothing but a murdering monster, hell bent on causing pain and suffering to everyone around you. Thankfully, Draco wasn't anywhere near that point yet, and he couldn't help but wonder whether that was why his body was rejecting the Dark Mark. Perhaps he would end up dying anyway - either you became a murdering monster, or you were killed for not living up to expectations. How utterly tragic.  _That_  was why Draco wouldn't involve Blaise, he deserved what little peace he had left. The Dark Lord would come for him eventually, just like he had come for Draco.

Draco had also thought about telling Hermione - believe it or not. On more than one occasion. He had felt an almost overwhelming need to unload everything and just tell her what was going on with him, but then he'd remember what she said about turning him in to Dumbledore, and he'd talk himself out of it. Sometimes he found it hard though, sometimes he wondered if it was for the best that he was turned in to Dumbledore... but then his mother would pop into his head and he would strike the thought from his mind so forcefully that it took his breath away.

It was a viscous circle. An endless loop in his mind. The only time he seemed to have any reprieve was when he was shagging Hermione.

Draco looked across the hall, his eyes landing on the familiar bushy head of hair he'd become so accustomed to as of late. She was engrossed in a book, carefully flicking through the pages whilst she ate a bowl of cereal.

As if sensing his gaze, she suddenly looked up, her face softening as soon as her eyes met his. She gave him a secret smile, which he returned with a small twitch of his lips.

Something was going to give soon - _it had to -_ because he couldn't keep lying like this. It was eating him up inside and adding to an already mounting load of stress. Either he had to tell her, or he had to break it off.

Draco wasn't stupid, far from it. He knew damn well that he'd developed feelings for her. Yes, he may not know what those feelings were because, rather than examining them, he tried to push them away more often than not, but they were there all the same.

_Stupid. Stupid. Stupid._

Come to think of it, perhaps he wasn't so smart after all. Why was he making things more difficult for himself when he could just break things off with her and be done with it? To hell with  _feelings._ Were they really worth his life and his mother's?

Draco stared hard at Hermione's face, hoping the answer would just jump out of nowhere and smack him right on the forehead.

She frowned worriedly, and mouthed,  _'are you alright?'_

No. No, he was not.

He nodded tightly and gritted his teeth together in frustration as more confusion clouded his brain.

Right now all he knew was that he  _had_  to fix that bloody cabinet. The rest would have to wait,  _for now_. He would spend every waking minute over Christmas break inside The Room of Hidden Things until the cabinet was fixed.

Draco tried to relax and clear his harassed mind. It wouldn't do to lose his head now.

"Where were you last night?" Blaise suddenly asked in lieu of a proper greeting. He took the seat next to Draco and reached for the coffee pot.

"Nowhere," Draco muttered moodily, not bothering to turn and look at his friend. It must've seemed as if he was annoyed by the interruption to his thoughts, but in all honesty he was glad for it. He was in desperate need of a distraction.

"Again?" Blaise said conversationally. "You go  _nowhere_  a lot, it must be fun. Who were you there with? Actually, no, let me guess. You were with... no one?"

"Correct," Draco couldn't help the little smile that lifted the corners of his lips. "How did you know?"

Blaise smiled crookedly. "Oh, you know, you're always  _nowhere_  with  _no one_ , so I just assumed," he shrugged cheerfully. "Perhaps I'll get to meet  _no one_  someday soon?"

"You're  _never_  meeting  _no one_ ," Draco told him sternly, twisting to face him fully now, wanting to convey the seriousness of the matter. The thought of properly introducing Hermione and Blaise to one another was simply  _bizarre_. What would Blaise say? He would surely think that Draco had lost his mind.

Blaise slowly turned his head towards the blond, his eyes narrowed in thought. "Interesting," he commented, bringing a freshly buttered piece of toast up to his mouth.

Draco plucked it right out of his fingers and took a huge bite. Oh here we go, Blaise and his theories. "What's interesting?" he sighed, deciding to indulge his friend.

Unperturbed about having his toast stolen right out of his hand, Blaise simply began buttering himself a new piece. "I thought you were shagging someone in Ravenclaw."

Draco finished off his pilfered toast and brushed his hands together, getting rid of any crumbs. "And what makes you think that I'm not?" he asked, sounding a little wary. He didn't like where this was going.

Blaise grinned at Draco's curiously blank expression. "Well, if  _no one_  was in Ravenclaw, you wouldn't have vehemently told me that I'm never meeting them. Which leaves only two other houses, and given your weird aversion to anyone in Hufflepuff, that leaves only  _one_  other house. The red and gold," he grinned triumphantly. "How positively scandalous."

Draco felt his stomach drop, and his heart accelerate. Bloody _wanking_  hell. Blaise could be such an interfering sod when he wanted to be. "That makes absolutely no sense whatsoever," Draco attempted to brush him off, trying his hardest to seem as disinterested and unaffected as possible.

"I beg to differ," Blaise intoned, looking far too smug for Draco's liking. "From where I'm standing, it's suddenly starting to make perfect sense."

Draco scrunched up his face, thoroughly exasperated. "How'd you work that one out? If I have an aversion to any house, it's bloody Gryffindor, not Hufflepuff," Draco took a large gulp of his coffee and turned away from his friend, hoping to put an end to their ridiculous conversation.

Of course, that was asking far too much.

"Now  _you're_  making no sense," Blaise pointed out, laughing. "You call Hufflepuff all the bloody time! Now suddenly you're changing your tune? You're doing nothing but cementing my suspicion that  _no one_  is a Gryffindor. Come on, tell me, who is it? Why are you so secretive? Is it a  _guy_? You know you can tell me. I won't judge. Love is love."

Love is love? What sort of piffle was that?  _Love_  had nothing to do with it!

Draco narrowed his eyes dangerously. "What the hell is this? The Spanish Inquisition? I'm not shagging anyone in fucking Gryffindor and I'm not shagging a bloody  _guy_. So, just  _drop it_."

Blaise gazed at the blond, a smirk making its way onto his face.

"What?" Draco snapped, irritated beyond belief.  _Merlin_ , he wanted to strangle him sometimes.

"Nothing," Blaise quickly muttered, shaking his head. He swirled another spoon of sugar into his coffee before taking a delicate sip. "It's just now you're getting defensive, so..." he trailed off, glancing at the blond out the corner of his eye.

Draco let out a long-suffering groan. He felt the sudden urge to bang his head on the table hard enough that it would knock him out, but he resisted. "Stop analyzing me, Blaise. You know how much I hate it when you do that."

"I can't help it. I pride myself on being the only person who can see through that impenetrable facade of yours. Truly, it's a gift, and I treasure it."

_Unbelievable._

Draco was gearing himself up to knock Blaise down a peg or two when Snape suddenly appeared out of nowhere, like he so often did, looking very peculiar indeed.

"Mr Malfoy, you need to come with me," he drawled in his usual tone of barely tolerable disdain.

Draco opened his mouth to argue, but was cut off before he could even get a word out.

" _Now_ ," Snape gritted, dark eyes narrowing into slits.

Draco and Blaise glanced at each other, eyes briefly meeting. The blond nodded and then got up from the table to follow his head of house out of The Great Hall.

* * *

They arrived in Snape's office ten minutes later with Draco still none the wiser as to why his breakfast had been interrupted - not that he hadn't tried to find out. After the fifth time asking, Snape had turned and snapped at him to ' _shut his trap and be patient! This wasn't something they could discuss in the open.'_

Draco sat in one of the vacant chairs in front of Snape's desk and watched as the professor locked the door and cast several  _privacy_  charms. He frowned deeply, the hairs on the back of his neck instantly standing to attention.

"I have something to tell you," Snape began carefully, taking his seat behind the desk.

Draco stared at him, mouth going unbelievably dry. "I gathered as much," he said, meaning to sound haughty, but instead his voice came out small and scratchy.

Snape gazed at him, eyes dark and intense. He looked so ominous, more so than usual.

Oh god. Something bad must have happened. Something terrible.

Draco sucked in a huge gasping breath. "Fucking hell, what is it?! Is it Mother? What's happened? Is she alright? Is -"

Snape held up his hand, and the blond fell silent immediately. "It's not... Your mother is... She's OK, Draco. At least for now."

Draco groaned and slumped back in his chair before releasing a long shaky breath.  _For fuck's sake_. His heart was literally punching the inside of his chest.

Once he felt his heart begin to slow and he was certain that he wasn't on the cusp of a heart attack, he looked back towards his Professor. He hadn't noticed it before, but Snape looked... haggard. Worryingly so _._  Draco wanted to demand what the fuck was going on, but the look on Snape's face made him reconsider. There was something scary in that look, terrifying even, and Draco wondered if it was best that he  _didn't_  know.

"Draco..." Snape paused as if not knowing how to continue.

"Is this necessary?" Draco asked, his nervousness making his tone sharper than usual, which was certainly saying something. "I don't know what's going on, but I'd rather you keep it to yourself. As long as mother is alright, that is all that matters -"

"It's your father," Snape blurted out, looking just as surprised by his sudden proclamation as Draco felt.

"My father?" Draco frowned, looking thoroughly confused. "What about him?"

Snape sighed and rubbed his eyes tiredly. "He's missing," he told the blond rather reluctantly.

_Missing?_

Draco blinked, his mind trying to catch on to what that meant exactly. "Missing, how?" he asked sceptically.

"Just,  _missing_ , Draco," Snape snapped in irritation. "You know what missing means, don't you? He's gone. Nowhere to be found."

"Thank you," Draco sneered sarcastically. "I know what bloody missing means. What I'm struggling to get my head around is how someone can go  _missing_ , as you say, inside a large hideous concrete fortress in the middle of the North Sea with Dementors guarding every door."

"The Dementors are gone," Snape told him plainly.

Draco gaped at his Professor, his mind reeling at the news. "Gone? What do you mean, gone? Are they missing too?"

"No, they are not. They all work for the Dark Lord now. As you know, half of the Dementors left Azkaban to join the Dark Lord's forces last year, but now they are  _all_  on his side. In fact, they are surrounding your manor as we speak," Snape stood up and began to pace, something Draco had never seen him do before.

Draco sat in silence, trying to digest what he'd just been told. Dementors - arguably the foulest creatures to ever walk the earth - were at his house. Where his mother was. Good God, he needed to get her out of there.

"Your father was supposed to arrive at the manor with them last night, but he never turned up," Snape told him clinically as he clasped his hands behind his back and continued to wear a path into the green patterned rug.

Draco felt his heart plummet for the second time in five minutes. "What are you saying?" he asked, looking up at Snape through narrowed angry slits.

"I think you know exactly what I'm saying," Snape answered, regret heavy in his tone.

Yes, Draco did know. Snape was trying to say that his father had  _run away,_  so to speak. But that couldn't be. Draco refused to accept it. "My father wouldn't do that," he shook his head harshly as if doing so would make his statement more convincing. "He wouldn't leave us. He's a fucking prick, and he's done some really shitty things to our family, but he would  _never_  leave us. Most certainly not my mother, knowing that she's a prisoner in her own home with  _that..."_ he abruptly broke off and stared at Snape in horror. He'd almost said madman.  _Shit_. He'd almost admitted to Snape that he thought the Dark Lord was a madman.

The look Snape gave him was hard and completely unreadable. Draco didn't have a clue what he was thinking, or even whether he'd realized what Draco had been about to say.

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

"Draco, facts are facts," Snape began, moving to sit down again. "Your father has disappeared, and The Dark Lord is absolutely livid. It doesn't help that you still haven't completed your tasks -"

"Fuck the tasks!" Draco suddenly exploded, launching himself out of his chair and knocking it clean over in the process. "I'm not an idiot. I know what's going to happen. If my father doesn't turn up soon, The Dark Lord will take it out on my mother. I won't allow it, I have to get her out of there."

Draco marched across the room to the door and had his wand raised to unlock it or blast the damn thing right off its hinges - whatever was quicker - when he felt a hand on his arm pulling him back.

"Draco,  _no!_ "

"Get off me!" the blond snarled, yanking his arm back.

"Don't be foolish!" Snape pushed him away from the door and stood in front of it with his wand raised directly at Draco.

Draco stared at it and then let out a deep humorless laugh. "What? Are you going to restrain me?"

"If necessary, yes," Snape hissed, his tone low and menacing. He wasn't bluffing. "I took an unbreakable vow to keep you safe -"

"A fact you keep reminding me of," Draco interrupted, eyes flashing dangerously. He was so sick of having it thrown in his face. It wasn't his bloody idea for Snape and his mother to take an unbreakable vow.

Snape looked furious. "What do you think will happen if you go barging into the manor, demanding to know where your mother is? Because surely you don't think he will just hand her over?"

Draco turned away from Snape's dark gaze and stared at the wall of books. He felt murderous, completely and utterly  _murderous_.

"I'll tell you what will happen -  _you will die_. And as a result, so will your mother. You're being downright careless. You have to be smart about this, Draco."

Draco closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. The rage coursing through his veins was like nothing he'd ever felt before. In that moment he  _hated_  his father - the spineless cunt. How could he do this to his family? How could he leave them, knowing what would happen if he did? What on earth was he thinking?! Fucking coward! He did this to them. He put them in this dire position. He's the one who let The Dark Lord into their home, for crying out loud. Now he was running away and leaving Draco and his mother to fend for themselves? It was inconceivable.  _Detestable_.

Draco opened his eyes slowly and turned back to his Professor, his chest aching with sheer hate for his father and deep fear for his mother. "What would you have me do?" he asked, tone weak and unmistakably pained.

"You need to complete your tasks," Snape told him simply. "I know it's hard, Draco. I know you want to help your mother, but this is the  _only_  way that you can help her right now. Complete the task, and then we can figure out how to get her out of there."

"We?" Draco questioned, his brows puckering.

"Yes, we. I will help you," Snape lowered his wand slowly. "I promise."

Draco wanted to ask  _why?_  Why would he put himself in danger for the Malfoys? Yes, he had made an unbreakable vow, but it had nothing to do with his mother. He was the Dark Lord's right hand man. Yet the look on his Professor's face stopped him. It was the most sincere expression he had ever seen on Snape's face. "OK," Draco said, nodding, accepting his offer to help.

He just hoped his mother could hold on until then.

* * *

By lunch time, the news of Lucius Malfoy's escape from Azkaban was all over the school, as well as the sudden disappearance of the remaining fleet of Dementors'. It had been printed in all the newspapers that morning, which was rather odd, seeing as Lucius had only escaped from prison the night before. One had to ask themselves, how did the reporters find out so quickly? Draco was finding it incredibly hard to believe that the Death Eaters didn't have something to do with it. It made sense after all. They were likely scouring the country for his father, and what better way to find the cowardly bastard than have every eye in Britain on the lookout for him. It was genius, really. Draco hoped they did find him, and soon.

As a result, Draco's day had been less than tolerable. The stares weren't so bad, but the whispering.  _Christ!_  The whispering was driving him up the wall.

At around 5:00pm, he found himself drawn to the Library in search of some much needed peace and quiet. He couldn't go to The Room of Requirement as he had too many eyes watching him, so this was the next best thing.

Thankfully, it was virtually empty, most students were still in The Great Hall eating their dinner. The few witches and wizards who were in there studying turned to look at him, but he ignored them and made his way to his favorite table - right at the back, behind the huge column. No one could see him here, this particular table was the only one that was far from all the others - that's why it was his favorite.

As he sat down and stared out of the window, he couldn't help but think of Hermione and the time they had both been sitting at this very table. Draco smiled at the memory, it was the first time he'd discovered how much fun it was to wind her up. In fact, he soon learned that he enjoyed their banter sessions almost as much as he enjoyed having sex with her.

Draco let out a deep weary sigh.

Both were likely to end soon. The more Draco thought about him and Hermione, the more he realized it was never going to work. Of course it wasn't. Hadn't he always thought that from the moment they had agreed to this affair? Draco thought he had, but as the weeks had ticked by, there was a small part of him that had started to think, what if?  _What if_. Draco wasn't usually optimistic about anything, yet he had started to feel unintentionally optimistic about this... about  _her_. How completely ridiculous.

"Hey," came a soft voice from behind him.

Draco casually glanced over his shoulder, seeing Hermione standing there looking so uncharacteristically meek. "Hey," he responded gruffly before turning to look back out of the window.

Why was she here? Did she come to seek him out specifically? Or was she already in the Library when he'd turned up? Would she walk away now that he'd basically dismissed her? Or would she stay?

Draco heard the chair across from him scrape lightly along the stone floor.

So, apparently she was staying.

He turned towards her and stared into warm brandy-colored eyes, patiently waiting for her to say something.

"Are you alright?" she asked after a few moments.

Draco raised a brow at her. "Yes. Why wouldn't I be?"

She'd come to ask him if he was alright? He might not have thought it was strange, but seeing as this was the second time that day that she had asked him, and considering she had never cared to ask him how he was before, he couldn't help but wonder, why the sudden change?

"Draco," she said, giving him a stern look.

"Hermione," he responded, mimicking her expression and delighting in the way she frowned and huffed in indignation.

"I'm serious," she said, placing her hands on the table and unconsciously leaning closer to him. "I'm worried about you," she confessed quietly, looking up at him through her eyelashes.

She was worried about him? Now this was too much. What would possess her to worry about him? It looked as though it took a lot for her to admit it, so he didn't think it was wise to make a joke about it. See, he was learning. "Why on earth are you worried about me? There's nothing to worry about," the lie burned its way up his throat, and he cleared it before swallowing.

Until recently, he'd never had any problems lying, he was  _the_  master of deception and didn't feel bad about it whatsoever. He felt bad about lying to her though. He absolutely despised it.

"Draco, your father has escaped from Azkaban and is missing," she said this like he didn't already know.

There was that word again,  _missing_. He felt his anger begin to stir. "Yes, I'm aware of that," he managed calmly, eyes like liquid silver.

"He's on the run from the Death Eaters," she whispered so quietly that at first he thought he'd misheard her. But after asking her to repeat herself, it turned out that she had in fact said what he'd originally thought.

Draco stiffened in response, his face going blank of all emotion. "What makes you say that?"

Hermione shook her head. "It's the way it was worded in the  _Prophet,"_ she said, a crease forming between her brows. "Something didn't seem right. When Bellatrix Lestrange and the others escaped last year, it was quite clear what had happened, and no one was really actively looking for them. Also, there was barely anything mentioned in the newspapers after that first article. But your father..." she trailed off, eyeing Draco with such an unnerving expression that it made a shiver crawl up his spine. "They are offering an obscene amount of money to anyone who finds him. It's obvious that the Death Eaters are behind it."

Smart, Draco thought. Too bloody smart for her own good. He opened his mouth to tell her she had it all wrong, but she beat him to it.

"There's no point in trying to tell me I'm wrong, because I know that I'm not," she told him, leaning even further across the table. She reached a hand out to him, but seemed to reconsider it and instead clasped both her hands tightly together. "You're in danger, Draco. You can't go home for Christmas. What if -"

"Stop," Draco cut her off, his tone firm. "What are you talking about?" His scalp prickled in warning. How the hell had she come to this conclusion? She was getting way too close for comfort. He needed to end this conversation  _right now_.

"I think he's going to come after you, Draco," she brought a hand up to her mouth and sucked in a sharp breath, as if just realizing something terrible was going to happen.

"Who?" Draco frowned. Did she mean his father? God, she looked so panicked. He reached over and took her hand, trying to calm her down.

" _Voldemort_ ," she hissed.

Draco stared at her, his grip becoming so tight on her hand he was sure it was cutting off circulation.

Why would she say that? Why would she even  _think_  it? What did she know? Had she found something out?...  _What the fuck?_ "Hermione, what the fuck are you talking about?" he gritted harshly, glancing swiftly around to make sure no one was listening.

"Well, think about it," she urged, looking a little crazed. "Voldemort is bound to be furious that your father has essentially run away. If he doesn't find him, what do you think he will do in retaliation?" she paused a moment, eyes wide and fearful. "He will come after  _you_ , Draco. Possibly your mother too, but I don't know how deep she is in all of this so -"

"She isn't involved!" he snapped angrily. "Not by choice, anyway."

_Shit. Shit. Shit._  He shouldn't have said that. He shouldn't even be having this conversation.

_'Oh, just tell her and be done with it,'_ a little voice whispered inside his head.

NO! He couldn't.

_'Do it! Tell her.'_

The urge to tell her was so strong -  _so fucking strong_. He could feel the confession clawing its way up his throat, trying its hardest to escape.

Hermione stared at him. She had absolutely no idea of the internal struggle currently raging inside him. "Then she is also in danger."

_Of course she is!_  He wanted to yell.  _That evil bastard is living in our fucking house! She's in about as much danger as she possibly can be. And I'm a fucking Death Eater, assigned with two seemingly impossible tasks that, if I don't complete soon, will result in my death, and my mother's._

God, how he wanted to say it. How he wanted to yell it from the Astronomy Tower. Instead he took a deep steadying breath and forced a small smile onto his face. "Do you always worry this much? You know, stress and worry can cause premature death. You should really consider that before taking it upon yourself to stress - unnecessarily, I might add - about other people's non-existent problems."

"Non-existent problems?" she asked, sounding incredulous. "Draco, have you been listening to anything I've just said?"

"Of course I have, and I'm trying to tell you that there's nothing to worry about," he forced out a chuckle, but it sounded off even to his own ears.

"I don't know how you can say that," she frowned deeply. "Even if I'm wrong, you shouldn't take any chances. It's better to be safe than sorry. You really shouldn't go home for Christmas, Draco. In fact, you should go straight to Dumbledore right now. He will help keep your mother safe until news of your father's whereabouts comes to light.  _Please_ , I'm begging you to do this."

"Why?" he suddenly exploded, making her jump. He looked, as well as sounded, thoroughly exasperated. "Why do you even care?" he didn't mean to sound so angry and ungrateful. He really did appreciate her concern, but he just couldn't understand where it was coming from.

"Because I do!" she snarled, her face contorting into the angriest expression he had ever seen on her face. "I  _care!_ "

Draco was so taken aback by her vehemence that he ended up just staring at her for what felt like an age. Eventually, he let go of her hand and rubbed his hands roughly over his face. "I'm not going home for Christmas," he admitted softly, wanting to defuse the situation. He had enough on his plate at the minute without adding to it. "I was never going home for Christmas. My mother is staying in Paris with some close family friends, and she thinks it would be better if I stayed here," another lie, but a necessary one.

Hermione visibly relaxed at hearing this. "OK, good," she said, tone a little stiff. Clearly she was still angry after her little outburst. If he was being honest, Draco was still reeling from it, too. She cared for him? Truly? It made him feel...  _odd_.

God, he just wanted to tell her. He was aching to tell her  _everything_. Things had changed between them, perhaps now she wouldn't turn him in to Dumbledore. Could he take that chance though? Could he put his mother's life on the line like that? Because if Hermione did turn him in, his mother would be dead the second The Dark Lord found out.

Draco stared off into space as he contemplated his options. He was silent for so long that Hermione started to become concerned again. "Hey," she said, reaching across the table and not hesitating this time when she took his hand. "What are you thinking about?"

_Tell her. Tell her. Tell her._

"I was thinking about..." he began, flipping her hand over and tracing the lines on her palm with his index finger. "I was thinking about last night," his eyes flicked up to hers and he smirked at the rush of red that immediately stained her cheeks.

He couldn't tell her, not yet.

Hermione ducked her head, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about it all day."

Draco raised his brow. "Really? So, you enjoyed then?" he hadn't been entirely sure she had. Of course she'd gotten off, but he wasn't sure if edging was her thing or not. It certainly wasn't for everyone.

"Yes," she bit her lip shyly. "Very much so."

He smiled crookedly at her and watched as her eyes sparkled back at him in response.

"Did you enjoy it?" she asked curiously. "I wasn't sure if you did. After you left, I thought maybe you were just doing it to teach me a lesson."

Draco gazed at her, his tongue flicking out to wet his bottom lip. _Fuck yes, he'd enjoyed it_. He nodded slowly, threading his fingers through hers. "I'm hard right now just thinking about it."

At his confession, he felt her hand tighten around his, and he glanced down to see that her knuckles had gone white. " _No you're not_ ," she muttered, quickly glancing around. Despite her look of scandalized horror, he knew that she was thoroughly enjoying this - he could tell.

He tilted his head to the side in challenge. "Do you wanna bet?"

Hermione stared at him for several moments, obviously trying to work out if he was telling the truth or not. She straightened up in her seat. "Show me," she simply demanded.

"Here?" he asked, brow raised in a casual manner. Draco had absolutely no qualms about showing her his cock right here in the Library. There was something terribly erotic about the thought of getting caught. It was such a massive turn-on.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, and he could see that she didn't think he would do it. "Yes," she let go of his hand and crossed her arms as she sat back in her chair. "Right here."

"So, we have a bet then?" he prompted, wanting a verbal confirmation.

"Sure," Hermione agreed with a careless shrug of her shoulders. She really thought that he wasn't going to go through with it, didn't she? Oh, how he loved to prove people wrong.

Draco smiled at her and she smiled right back, albeit a little smugly. He doubted very much that she would be smiling in a minute.

He stood up suddenly and lifted his jumper, exposing his toned stomach, as his hands went straight for his belt buckle. "What do I get after I win the bet?" he asked, giving her a lascivious leer. He wanted there to be no misunderstanding of where his thoughts were firmly entrenched.

Hermione's eyes widened in shock and she lurched forward in her sit - to stop him? Draco didn't know, but the way her eyes scanned their surroundings - in an almost feverish sort of manner - made him laugh out loud. "You're not really going to get it out, are you?" she asked incredulously. "I thought you were  _joking_. I was calling your bluff."

Draco threw her a look that said,  _really?_ "A word of advice - although it's a little late now - it's not very wise to call a Slytherin's bluff. Also, I  _never_  back down from a bet," he told her as he pulled his zipper down.

Hermione's eyes dropped down to his crotch and she gasped. "Jesus Christ.  _OK!_  I can see," she hissed urgently. "I can see that you're hard. Just  _stop_."

"Sorry, Princess, but a bet's a bet," he shrugged and pulled the front of his boxers down.

Hermione smacked her hand over her mouth as his cock sprung free from its confines. He couldn't help but notice the way her skin flushed and her eyes darkened to almost black. She looked an odd mixture of shocked and aroused, and he found that he quite liked it.

Draco looked down and gripped his cock in his hand. Fuck, he was so hard. He glanced back up at her and stroked it firmly once, twice, three times, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Draco," she breathed, moving her hand away from her mouth. Draco tucked his cock away and swiftly fastened his trousers. He may get off on the thought of getting caught, but that didn't mean he actually  _wanted_  to get caught. "I can't believe you just did that," her tone was hushed and her eyes were wide.

"Believe it," he said, sitting back down again. "You owe me," he told her, a slow devilish grin crawling its way up his cheek. Draco imagined he must look incredibly smug, he thought it was rather deserved though. Hermione, on the other hand, looked as though she was either about to keel over and die or mount him where he sat.

She stood up and walked around the table, her eyes running up and down the long length of his body, which was casually stretched out in the chair. She stopped in front of him, her face an open book filled with pages of boundless lust and something else he couldn't name.

"Careful, Hermione," he said, his voice a low husk. "Remember where we are."

"I know where we are," she told him, hands clenched at her sides. She looked as though she was barely in control of herself.

"If you know where we are, then stop looking at me like you want to fuck my brains out," he said, reaching down to adjust his painfully hard erection. Shit, she wasn't making this easy for him, was she? Hermione continued to stare at him. He could visibly see her chest rising and falling.

"It's all your fault," she told him, sounding thoroughly dismayed.

"What is?" he frowned, rather confused.

"Our imminent desecration of the Hogwarts Library," she answered with a solemn shake of her head. She grabbed his arm and pulled him up from his chair, dragging him through a narrow opening that lead into the Library's maze of endless bookshelves. She didn't stop until Draco had well and truly lost his sense of direction. If she suddenly felt compelled to leave him there, it would surely take him hours to find his way back out again.

"Jesus, Hermione," he said, as they squeezed through two teetering piles of books into a darkened space between two old bookshelves. "Where are we? I feel like we've travelled into another dimension. I don't think I've ever ventured this far into the depths of the Library before."

"I don't think anyone has," she smiled, looking back at him as she bit her lip. She stopped and spun around to face him fully, not giving him any warning as she suddenly jumped up, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist.

Draco stumbled backwards, but managed to steady himself without dropping her to the floor. "Eager much?" he teased, moving to press her into the bookshelf. They both groaned as his cock rubbed against her core.

"You have no fucking idea," she gasped, reaching down between them to remove his belt and unfasten his trousers.

When Draco felt her hand wrap around his cock he hissed sharply and buried his face into the crook of her neck. "Fuck, I need to be inside you," he gritted, sucking on her skin and drawing the most delicious sound from her throat.

" _Yes_ ," she agreed, pumping her fist up and down the length of him, causing several drops of pre-come to gather at the tip. She swiped her thumb over it, spreading the liquid down his cock.

Draco shivered and pressed his lips against hers, his tongue flicking out to tangle with hers. With one hand, he lifted her skirt, bunching it around her waist, and deftly pulled her knickers to the side, fingers brushing her wet centre.

_Fucking hell. She was soaking._

With less effort than he thought, Draco managed to line his cock up to her entrance after dragging it through her wetness several times, coating himself in her juices. He thrust into her sharply, impaling her all the way to the hilt.

Hermione pulled away from his mouth and cried out breathlessly. "God,  _Draco_ ," she half-yelled half-moaned, throwing her head back.

Draco covered her mouth with his hand, his eyes going wide. "Sshhhh," he hissed. "Someone might hear."

He began to move slowly, his left arm straining from taking the brunt of her weight. He kept his right hand over her mouth, watching as her eyes rolled to the back of her head. She groaned deeply, her voice muffled, yet still audible.

"Ssshhh," he chuckled despite himself.  _Bloody hell_. "Do you want us to get caught?"

Hermione reached up and pulled his hand away from her mouth. "I don't care," she told him. She looked drunk - drunk on lust, or just drunk on him. "I just want you to fuck me, Draco. Please, just  _fuck_  me."

_Jesus Christ._ He'd created a monster. Far be it from him to deny her though.

Not needing to be asked twice, Draco gripped her arse in both hands and began to pound into her fast and hard, his cock gliding in and out of her tight passage. Fuck, it felt good -  _so fucking good_  - he'd needed this, he'd need  _her_. Only she could make him forget everything. Only she could make him lose himself so completely.

Hermione angled her hips forward, allowing him deeper access, her hands clawing desperately at his back.

His pace never wavered, he drove his cock in and out of her with force, watching her face contort in sweet agony. He knew the exact moment he hit that sweet spot of hers because she screamed out, one hand coming up to grip the shelf above her head, whilst the other tangled in the short hair at the back of his head, pulling it hard.

Draco covered her mouth with his, trying to swallow down her moans. They were going to get caught. How could they not? He was finding it increasingly hard to give a shit though. Draco stopping now was like the Titanic trying to avoid hitting the iceberg...  _impossible_.

"Draco," Hermione keened against his lips. "I'm close. I'm so close."

Draco hummed at the admission and doubled his efforts. "I want you to come for me, Hermione," he gasped, pressing his forehead against hers. He closed his eyes and focused on the feel of her - her heat wrapped around him and her hand yanking his hair. His whole body ached with the need to come, but he wouldn't, not until she did first. "I want to feel your cunt convulse around me," he breathed, lips brushing hers ever so slightly.

Draco wasn't sure if it was his words that did it, but immediately after he'd uttered them, Hermione sucked in a sharp breath, her whole body tensing before it began to shake with the force of her release. He felt her walls clamp down around him and had to bite her neck as he growled out his own release, the force of it almost enough to bring him to his knees. How he managed to stay standing - he had no idea - but he was glad that he'd had the forethought to cover Hermione's mouth again. Even muffled as it was, she was still loud. Loud enough that he was expecting someone to come and investigate what all the noise was about.

After struggling to stay upright, Draco finally succumbed and lowered them to the floor, his legs unable to hold them up any longer.

They lay there on the dusty floor of the Library for what felt like hours, but in reality was actually more like half an hour. No one came for them, which was surprising but not unwelcome. They didn't say a word to one another, neither feeling the need to fill the silence with inconsequential chit-chat. Draco was glad about it. He felt satiated, light and carefree, and wanted to savor it for as long as possible, because he knew it wouldn't last... in fact, he could already feel it starting to dissipate.

"We should probably go," Hermione muttered after a while. She sounded reluctant, like she would rather stay there with him than go anywhere else.

Draco didn't say anything, he just got up and began to straighten his clothes. He didn't want to go back to his dorm, he literally couldn't think of anything worse. He wondered, if he asked her to stay with him, would she? Fucking hell, he was being ridiculous. He  _was not_  going to ask her to stay with him. He quickly cast the thought from his mind.

"What are you doing tomorrow?" she asked, brushing her hands over her skirt.

"You," he turned and smirked at her. "It's Wednesday," he added in way of an explanation.

Their original rendezvous days were Wednesday and Saturday, although scheduling had kind of gone out of the window recently. Not that he cared, but he imagined Hermione mustn't be too happy about it, what with her strict timetable and all.

"Ah, yes," she blushed. "Wednesday. Of course."

Draco grinned at her. How she could blush after what they had just done was beyond him, yet he'd been around her long enough now to expect it, so if she suddenly stopped blushing at every little innuendo it would, quite frankly, be  _weird_.

Somehow, they safely made their way out of the maze of bookshelves. Although there were a few instances where Draco had started to question whether Hermione did in fact know her way out, despite her telling him umpteen times that she did.

"See, I told you I could get us out," she smirked, playfully bumping her shoulder into his arm.

"Yes, yes," he waved her off, rolling his eyes. "It only took us ten years though."

Hermione laughed heartily. "Don't be so -"

"Hermione?"

Hermione spun around at the sound of her name.

Draco stiffened, knowing exactly whom that voice belonged to. He turned around slowly, his eyes landing on Potter. "And here I thought that my day couldn't get any worse," he drawled. "Apparently I was wrong."

"Fuck off, Malfoy," Potter spat as livid as ever. "I'm here to see Hermione."

"Oh really," Draco said, his tone condescending. "Why the sudden change of heart? I thought you didn't want anything to do with her anymore."

"I never said... It wasn't that... It's none of your fucking business!" Potter stuttered, stumbling over his words in his rage.

"Why are you here, Harry?" Hermione demanded before Draco could get another word in. "What do you want?"

Potter stared at her for long moments, his jaw working. "It's Ron," he gritted out, his face crumbling slightly. "He's been poisoned."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading :-). I hope you enjoyed this chapter.
> 
> Thank you Black_Osmosis for your swift beta reading, on a weekend no less :-)


	13. Chapter 13

Hermione stared at Ron's face, her chest tightening with dread. His freckles, which had always stood out, currently looked as though they had been painted on his skin. They were dark - _too_  dark - and looked disturbingly unnatural against his pale complexion.

Of course, Ron's skin had always been fair, but looking at his pallor now – chalk-white and so unhealthy - he looked as though he was knocking at death’s door.

She reached out and tentatively brushed her fingers against his hand and found it to be warm beneath her touch. She felt instantly reassured - warm was good, warm meant he was  _alive,_ despite how terrible he looked.

Hermione released a shaky breath and turned away from him as she clasped her hands together in her lap. It was unexpectedly hard to see him like this - so weak and so damaged. She just wanted him to wake up so that she would know for sure that he was going to be OK.

But what if he didn't wake up? What if he ended up dying anyway, regardless of Harry's quick-thinking and Madam Pomfrey's expertise?

The thought was an unwelcome one, but it had been plaguing her mind for the last several hours, ever since she'd first arrived in the hospital wing. It made her feel sick, so unbelievably  _sick_.

_Ron, please, please, wake up._

She closed her eyes tightly and swallowed deeply, willing the sudden surge of nausea to go away. She felt lightheaded and spaced-out, making everything seem almost dream-like... or more accurately,  _nightmarish_. She wished this was a nightmare, a horrible nightmare that she could simply wash away during her morning shower.

Hermione pinched herself hard and winced as pain flared around the area _._ She was definitely awake.

It was long minutes before the urge to vomit slowly started to decrease. She kept her eyes closed until it fully passed and she felt marginally in control of herself again.

When she did finally open her eyes, she found two emerald orbs staring at her.

Her heart stuttered in her chest and then began to beat rapidly.

Hermione had been trying her hardest to avoid Harry's gaze. She was fully aware that he had been staring at her for the last half hour, at least, ever since Ginny had left to fire-call her parents. He had something he wanted to say to her, of that Hermione was absolutely sure. It wasn't just obvious in the way he couldn't take his eyes off her, but she could sense it in his demeanour. He was wound up like a too-tight spring.

She also had this horrible feeling, deep in her gut, kind of like the feeling she got before she boarded a plane, or in the lead-up to an important exam. It was like nervous energy, fluttering in her stomach. She hated it. She was certain that whatever Harry had to say to her she wasn't going to like. Hermione just wished she knew which unsavoury topic he was going to bring up so that she could properly prepare herself for how best to handle it. It really could be any number of things. They hadn't exactly been seeing eye-to-eye lately, so Hermione wasn't sure what in particular was troubling him right now.

She just hoped that it wasn't about Draco...

Harry had found them together in the Library, but what was so incriminating about that? After all, he was under the impression that she and Draco were working together on a project, so it made sense. Hermione had been worried about their appearances though - what if Harry had noticed the post-coital glow on both of their faces? Or the way their lips were just that little bit too red and swollen? Or the way Draco's hair was slightly mussed from her fingers combing through it?

Had he noticed?

She didn't think so, because if he had, she was quite certain that one, or possibly  _both_ Harry and Draco would be in the beds adjacent to Ron's.

Yet, she couldn't be completely sure... Why the hell was he looking at her like that? It was unnerving. Hermione had a mind to look away and continue to ignore him, like she had been managing to do successfully without issue or remorse. Now that she had made eye contact with him though, it was virtually impossible for her to look away.

Harry was casually stretched out in one of the visitor’s chairs - one leg straight and the other bent at the knee. He had his right elbow propped up on the armrest, with his thumb nestled beneath his chin and his index finger pressed against his puckered lips. His face looked drawn and weary, but his green eyes were hard and resolute.

She felt naked and exposed beneath his gaze, and she didn't like it, not one bit.

"Are you going to stare at me all night?" she eventually snapped, not able to help herself or her sharp tone.

Harry didn't so much as blink in response to her angry outburst, he just continued to stare at her.

"Mature, Harry," she told him with a deep sigh. "Very mature."

His head tilted to the side slightly, assessing her thoroughly. "Maturity has nothing to do with it," he began in an even tone, moving to place both arms on the armrests of his chair. "I'm simply waiting, Hermione. That's all."

Waiting? Waiting for what?

Hermione's scalp started to prickle - in warning? Possibly. She would have to tread carefully here. "What are you waiting for?" she asked, the wariness she felt made her voice come out little harsher than she'd meant it to.

Seriously though, what on earth was he waiting for? Waiting for Ron to wake up? Waiting for Ginny to get back? Waiting for the moon to finish its monthly orbit?  _What?_

"Waiting for you," he told her, eyes narrowing in contemplation.

Hermione's stomach twisted at his words. She wasn't sure  _why_  exactly, as she still had no idea what he was talking about, but there was something ominous in his seemingly innocent response. She couldn't imagine what he'd be waiting for  _her_  for. Did he want her to do, or perhaps say, something? She was so confused. There was something in his expression, too, that she didn't like, though she couldn't pinpoint what it was. She wasn't sure she'd ever seen this particular look on him before. Not directed at her, anyway.

"Do you have anything you want to tell me, Hermione?" he asked in a chillingly low tone that sent shivers dancing up her spine. "Perhaps you want to get something off your chest? A little confession, maybe?"

Hermione stared at him, her whole body stiffening at once. What the hell was that supposed to mean? What was he talking about? This couldn't be about Draco,  _surely._  Harry stared at her intently, clearly waiting for a response of some sort, but she couldn't move, she could barely fucking breathe, never mind voice a coherent reply.

_Fucking hell, what was this about?_

"Nothing?" he prompted when she still didn't say anything.

Somehow she managed to shake her head, but the movement was sharp and jerky at best. Her heart pounded inside her chest, making her feel like she would pass out at any moment.

She wanted to get up and leave, the urge to run strong in her limbs.

Harry's eyes flashed in a way she'd never seen before,and he shifted forward to perch on the edge of his sit, unconsciously leaning closer to her as if sensing she was about to bolt. "Are you sure?" he asked, green boring into brown.

There was something inside Hermione, screaming at her to tell him everything. Clearly he'd found something out, that much was obvious, but she couldn't. She couldn't bring herself to utter the words. Not to Harry, not like this. Not when Ron was unconscious in the bed next to them. Plus there was still a chance that this wasn't about Draco at all. A slim chance, yes, but a chance all the same.

Hermione tilted her head in affirmation, her eyes burning with the need to blink, but she wouldn't let them.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut and bowed his head in dismay. He sat like that for long minutes, long  _agonizing_  minutes, and all Hermione could do was stare at the top of his messy head of hair, wondering what was going through his mind. God, she wanted to go to him, hug him and apologize for whatever  _this_  was, but she couldn't get her legs to move and stand up.

She was about to open her mouth and break the horrible silence, when suddenly, he stood up and pulled something out of his pocket. He threw it towards her and she caught it in her lap.

She frowned, for a split second she thought he'd thrown her a wad of blank parchment, but then it hit her what it really was, and she gripped it tightly in both fists, her blood turning to ice in her veins.

Oh no _._ So not about Draco... or not  _only_  about Draco.

"Now do you have anything to say?" he asked, shoving his hands inside his pockets.

Hermione released a long shaky breath. Oh yes, she had a lot to say, like how? when? who? and why? She'd start with how, "How long have you had it?" she asked thickly. Her voice sounding foreign to her own ears.

Harry gazed at her in disbelief. "How long have I had it?" he echoed, eyes narrowed into slits. " _That's_  what you have to say to me?"

Hermione stared down at the Marauder's Map, her hands trembling. He was right, of course. She should be apologizing. She should be trying to explain herself, but where to start? How much did he even know? For all she knew he didn't really know anything. Her mind raced with all the different ways she should handle the situation, yet none of her explanations seemed plausible. She was trapped. She was trapped in the web of lies she had spun, and now they were coming back to bite her in the arse, just like she had always known they would. She couldn't lie anymore, but she couldn't tell him the truth either. So where did that leave her?

"To answer your question," he began, taking several steps towards her. "I've only had it in my possession for a few hours, but really, I don't see how that's important. I think there are more pressing questions, don't you?"

Hermione just gazed at him, her expression one of a downcast nature. He wasn't being unreasonable. She had taken his map and all he wanted was an explanation. At the very least he deserved an explanation.

Harry let out a low noise of disgust. "I just don't understand, Hermione!" he exploded, throwing his hands up in the air as he began to pace in front of her, his steps loud and forceful with his increasing anger. "I've been looking for the map for weeks,  _weeks!_ I know we haven't been talking, but you knew I needed it to keep an eye on Malfoy. Why the fuck did you take it? And without asking?"

Hermione sagged in her seat. What the hell was she supposed to say to that?  _'Oh, apologies Harry, I took it so that I could shag Draco Malfoy without you finding out. Sorry, not sorry.'_

She wasn't sorry, not really. Not about taking the map. She was sorry about other things,  _a lot_  of other things, but taking the map wasn't one of them. She felt guilty though, oh yes, and she thought that was probably worse.

"Well?!" Harry pushed, coming to a complete standstill in front of her.

Well, indeed. "Um, I - well... I," she stared up at him, uncharacteristically stumbling over her words.

Harry scowled at her in confusion, probably wondering why she was finding it so difficult to talk to him. She'd never not been able to talk to him before, so this was a first. His confusion was perfectly understandable, and she felt terrible for causing it. " _Please,"_ he almost begged, "help me understand. Were you trying to prove a point or something? Is it because we fell out? What?" he slumped, looking a little dejected.

Hermione blinked at him as she mulled over his speculations. They were brilliant. So simple, yet much better than what she could think up herself. She could roll with this. It was awful,  _despicable_ , and she'd be lying again, but it was far better than the truth. God, she'd go to hell for this, and she'd be dragging Draco along with her because it was pretty much his fault anyway. She was doing this for him.

She stood up and placed her hands on his upper arms. "Yes," she sighed, brown eyes wide with contrition. "Well, sort of. I was being petty. We had fallen out, so I took it out of spite. I actually didn't mean to keep it this long, I forgot about it. I'm sorry, Harry."

Harry gazed at her and she watched as his eyes slowly softened. He sighed deeply. "I don't blame you," he muttered. "I was such a dick. I shouldn't have said what I said. It was wrong and I'm sorry."

Oh, bloody hell. Did he have to apologize? Now she felt even more wretched. It would have been so much easier if he'd stayed angry with her.

"Oh, Harry," she breathed, gripping his arms tighter. "There's no need to apologize.”We both said some things we wished we hadn't. Let's just leave it that."  _For my sanity, please, let's just leave it at that._

Hermione stepped away from him and turned to look at Ron.

She couldn't stand this - the lies, the deceit. It was eating her up inside. She hated that she was basically having to choose between her friends and her lover. Why couldn't she have both? She wished she could just tell Harry everything without him losing his mind. If only he would understand... she knew that he wouldn't though. He would  _never_  understand.

"Ron's going to be OK," he told her quietly, coming up beside her and placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

Although Ron was a tough subject at the moment, given the current circumstances, he was a safe one. So she'd take it.

"How do you know?" she whispered, because how did he? None of them really knew for sure.

Harry's gaze flicked to Ron's still form. "Because he has to," he said simply, like there was no other possible outcome.

Hermione sniffed and ducked her head, trying to hide the sudden emotion that washed over her. It was everything, Ron, Harry, Draco... and this horrible situation she'd gotten herself into. The easy thing to do would be to walk away from this affair with Draco, it would solve almost everything. But it was too late for that now, she couldn't walk away, and the realization almost brought her to her knees.

She heard Harry suck in a sharp breath, and before she knew what was happening, he was pulling her into a tight embrace. She fought him for a moment, because how could she take comfort from him when she was lying to him? But she eventually caved when it became clear that Harry wasn't going to give up. She released a shaky breath and pressed her face into his jumper, wrapping her arms around his waist and breathing in his woodsy scent. She squeezed him hard, trying to convey how sorry she was without actually having to say it out loud and explain what it was she was actually sorry for.

God, how she needed this. She needed her friend. Her Harry. Until this moment she hadn't realized how much she'd truly missed him.

They stayed like that for a long time - Hermione's arms linked behind his back, Harry's left arm draped across her shoulders, the other cradling her head against his chest.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled into her hair sometime later. "I really am  _so_  fucking sorry -"

"Don't, Harry," she mumbled into the fabric of his jumper. She couldn't stand to hear it.

"Just tell me you forgive me for what I said and I'll stop," he promised. "I just need to hear it."

In response, Hermione squeezed him tighter, if that was at all possible. "There's nothing to forgive, Harry, but yes. I would forgive you anything because you're my best friend and that's what best friends do," she chuckled softly to hide the way her voice trembled, but she knew that he could hear it. "I'm sorry, too. For... everything." And she was. Although Harry didn't truly know what  _everything_  meant.

"Let's never fight again," he said, stepping back and holding her at arm’s length. "I've missed you. I've hated not having you around."

Hermione smiled at him, albeit a little watery. "I've missed you too. And Ron," she added glancing over at him.

The worst thing about seeing Ron lying there, so deathly pale, was that he had almost died before she'd had the chance to sort things out with him. If he had died, Hermione wasn't sure she would have ever gotten over it. It definitely put things into perspective and made her rethink all the reasons why she was upset with him in the first place. She quickly realized that none of them mattered anymore, and couldn't fathom why they ever did to begin with. She would have never forgiven herself had Ron actually died... She would never forgive herself if  _he_   _did_  die. There was still a chance.

"Hey," Harry muttered softly, pulling her from her morbid thoughts. "He really will be alright. I promise."

Instead of being all maudlin and pessimistic about the situation, Hermione nodded and let Harry guide her over to where he had been previously sitting. He pulled up another chair and they both sat facing each other, right next to Ron's hospital bed.

"Tell me. How have you been," he asked after a brief moment’s pause, eyes raking over her as if trying to glean some insight from her appearance.

"Fine, mostly," she told him honestly, leaning down to pick the map up from where it had fallen on the floor. "I've been keeping myself busy."

Hermione watched as Harry leaned forward, casually resting both elbows on his spread knees. "Oh yeah? Doing what?" his voice was light and conversational, and he had an easy smile gracing his lips. He was trying to lighten the mood. He was trying to cheer her up. And she loved him for it.

"You know, just studying, the usual," she answered vaguely, running a hand over her skirt to smooth away invisible creases. "But enough about me. What have you been up to? I hope you've been keeping up with your studying."

Harry threw her a sheepish look as he scratched the back of his head, a thing he did whenever he was about to tell her something that she wasn't going to like.

"Harry," she intoned, giving him a stern look. "What is it?"

He cringed. "I had to redo that Charms test the other day," he confessed, scrunching his face up in preparation of her wrath.

Hermione gasped. Although she dearly wanted to chew him out for it, she wouldn't harp on at him now, it was neither the time, nor the place.

"Oh, Harry," she tutted, disappointment heavy in her tone. "What am I going to do with you?"

"I know, I know," he sighed. "I did pass the second time though, which is a relief. Honestly, Ron and I have been a complete mess without you."

Hermione reached out and patted his knee. "Don't worry, I'll sort you both out and get you back on track," she smirked and sent him a playful wink.

Their conversation carried on in this fashion for the next half hour or so, until Ginny came back with news that her and Ron's parents would be arriving the next day.

The three of them stayed by Ron's bedside for another hour until Madam Pomfrey came bustling in and ordered them out.  _"It's way past your curfew! Shoo!"_

It wasn't until they all arrived in Gryffindor tower, and she and Ginny were halfway across the common room, that Hermione suddenly remembered she was still holding the Marauder's Map.

"Shit. I need to give this back to Harry," she said, holding up the currently concealed map. "You go ahead, Gin," she said, giving the redhead a quick hug. "I'll see you in the morning."

"OK," Ginny yawned, hugging her back. "Goodnight."

"Harry!" Hermione called out, just as Harry was about to climb the stairs to the boys’ dormitories. "Your map," she jogged towards him and held it out. She couldn't help but feel a little reluctant. What would she and Draco do now? Perhaps she shouldn't have said anything and just gone to bed.

"Oh yeah, thanks," he smiled, taking it from her. "Oh, Hermione. I should probably warn you." Oh god, what now? He had a half guilty, half uncomfortable expression on his face. "I don't know where you had the map hidden, but I cast quite a forceful  _Accio,_ and when it came flying into my hand it had these hooked onto it."

 _Oh dear God, no._  Hermione's mouth fell open as Harry pulled a pair of red satin knickers from his pocket and let them dangle off his index finger.

_Fucking hell. Strike her dead!_

Hermione gasped and snatched her knickers off his finger, her face burning with what must be an epic blush - possibly one for the ages.

_Why did it have to be her knickers of all things?! Christ!_

"I mean, I wouldn't have even known it was you who took the map, but, as I soon found out, you initial your underwear, so..." he trailed off awkwardly.

"Oh, _God_ ," Hermione whined. It was getting worse! Finding out that Harry had inspected her knickers well enough to find the tiny embroidered initials she'd magically sewn into them was just too much. "Have you had them in your pocket this whole time?" she asked, tone high and incredulous.

"Well... yeah," he laughed, she couldn't imagine why, because this was no laughing matter. Not when her knickers and Harry were involved. The two just didn't mix. "I really hope they're clean, because,  _ew_."

"Of course they're bloody clean!" she scoffed at the insinuation. "I don't put dirty knickers back in my chest."

If the floor would open up and swallow her now that would be great.

"Really?" Harry asked tilting his head to the side and frowning. "I always do."

Hermione raised her brow at him and smirked despite herself. "You put your dirty knickers back in your chest, do you? How interesting. I didn't think you were the knicker-wearing type. Now that's a mental image I won't be able to shake too soon."

Harry rolled his eyes at her and grinned. "You know what I mean. And anyway, back at you! I didn't think you'd wear  _those_  kind of knickers. Not that I ever think of you wearing knickers," he rushed to add, "but if I did, those wouldn't be it. I was quite shocked to tell you the truth."

Now it was Hermione's turn to frown. "What the hell does that mean? What knickers did you think I would wear?"

"Not  _those_!" Harry answered, gesturing wildly to her hand that was gripping said knickers.

Hermione looked down at them and then thrust her hand behind her back, her cheeks flaming again.

"I thought you would wear something a little more..." he paused, clearly looking for the right word, " _conservative_ ," he finally landed on, looking pleased with himself.

Hermione narrowed her eyes dangerously. "Why?" she demanded sharply. "Because I'm a bookworm who loves to study and spends all my spare time in the Library?" she crossed her arms, making sure her knickers were well-hidden from view.

Harry stared at her wide-eyed. He looked like a deer caught in headlights. She would have laughed if she wasn't so annoyed. "No!" he rushed to fix his unintentional mistake. "No, not at all. That's  _not_  what I meant -"

"Then what did you mean, Harry?" She huffed indignantly. "I'm a teenage girl, not a nun!"

"Of course you are!" he briskly nodded in agreement. "A teenage girl, I mean," he amended at the withering look she threw him. "They are lovely knickers, Hermione. Very sexy," he cringed at the last part, probably wondering what on earth had possessed him to say that, of all things. Hermione was wondering the same.

"Oh, just go to bed, Harry," she let out a long suffering sigh.

The relief that washed over Harry's face was comical in the 3rd degree. "Can I? Oh, thank you," he quickly turned away and bolted for the boys dormitories. "Let's pretend this never happened," he called over his shoulder. "Good night, Hermione. I'm so glad we're friends again."

Hermione pursed her lips as she watched him go. "Good night, Harry," she rolled her eyes.

When she walked into her dormitory five minutes later, she had to grip the wall for support as she willed away an imminent heart attack. For several moments she couldn't do anything but stare around the room in complete and utter shock.

"I hope you're going to clean all your shit up," Lavender sneered as she yanked the curtains around her bed closed.

Jesus Christ, but it looked as though her chest had exploded and spewed all her belongings over every surface of the room. By the looks of her chest, which was in several pieces on the floor, that's exactly what happened.

"That must have been some  _Accio_ ," she muttered quietly to herself, before she began cleaning everything up.

The next morning, Hermione, Harry and Ginny made their way up to the hospital wing after scarfing down a quick breakfast.

Ron was how they had left him the night before - still deathly pale, still unconscious. Despite there being no improvement in the way he looked, Madam Pomfrey assured them that he would most likely wake up that afternoon. Apparently the tests she had performed on him just before they'd arrived had shown positive results. Ron’s organs were healing remarkably well and she was confident that there would be no lasting damage like she'd originally thought.

The three of them could barely contain their glee at hearing the fantastic news. Hermione felt hopeful again, the helplessness she'd felt the night before almost a distant memory now. It was funny how that happened. How one day it can feel like your life is completely falling apart around you, with no solution in sight. Then the next everything is fine, you can see the light again, and you wonder why you were even stressing in the first place. Such is life, she supposed.

After an hour sat by Ron’s hospital bed, they all left and made their way to their respective classes. Hermione had Ancient Runes, the only class she shared with Draco without Harry and Ron.

When she entered the classroom, she found Draco was already sat in his seat. She kept her eyes trained on him as she found her own desk, so used to the layout of the classroom that she was certain she could have found it blindfolded.

Draco was slouched casually in his chair, his long legs sprawled out under the desk in front of him. He was staring out of one of the tall arched windows, his gaze fixated on the snow, obviously lost in thought.

He looked so handsome - like always - and she yearned to kiss him, taste him,  _and breathe him in_. It sounded ridiculous and needy, but recently she found she had these random overwhelming urges to be close to him, sometimes the urges were so strong she felt like she just wanted to consume him entirely. These were thoughts that she would never admit out loud,  _to anyone_. They would surely lock her up and throw away the key. She sounded mental, even in her own head. It was hard to believe that she was feeling this way when she'd only been with him yesterday. With everything that had happened with Ron, it felt like a lifetime ago.

She really needed to tell him about the map, too. It would be hard for them to meet up now, what with Harry surely back to stalking Draco's every move. She felt frustrated with herself, she should have warded her chest better. Maybe then Harry's  _Accio_  wouldn't have worked. In saying that, he must have put some power behind it, because even though the wards she'd set would have weakened over the past few weeks, he shouldn't have been able to cause that much damage.

Draco turned to her then, the lighting in the room making his face look sharper and more chiselled than usual. He had enviable facial structure, everything was even and symmetrical, which was ironic considering how much of a pointy git she used to think he was.

She looked into his cool grey eyes and was surprised to discover how troubled they were. He looked haunted.

Hermione frowned deeply. Was it his father? Had he heard something? She glanced around to make sure no one was watching and then turned back to him, intending to ask him if he was OK, but he was back to staring out the window again.

Hermione chewed on her bottom lip, debating whether it would be strange for her to go over and sit next to him.

 _'Of course it bloody would,'_ her inner voice chastised,  _'get your shit together!'_

She sighed and shook her head. She attempted to catch his attention several more times before Professor Babbling came waltzing into the classroom demanding everyone's attention. Hermione quickly gave up after that and decided to try another avenue of communication.

Scribbling down a quick note, Hermione surreptitiously looked around, waiting for the moment when Professor Babbling would turn her back to write something on the blackboard. When the time came, Hermione quickly scrunched up the note and then launched it across the room.

She wasn't really sure what she was thinking, or why she thought it would be a good idea, because she had never had good aim. There was absolutely no feasible reason why it would hit its intended target, so she wasn't overly surprised when it hit Marcus Belby in the back of the head instead. No. She was more pissed than anything.

Hermione quickly looked to the front of the classroom, feigning interest in what the Professor was discussing, as Belby spun around in his sit, casting accusatory eyes around the room, his hand clutched to the back of his head.

Oh, for Pete's sake, it was only a bit of parchment! He was acting like someone had thrown a brick at his over-sized noggin'.

She watched him reach down in her peripheral vision and pick her note up off the floor.

_Shit. Shit. Shit._

Hermione was about to jump up, run over and snatch it from his hands, when Draco suddenly leaned forward across his desk and held out his hand, wiggling his fingers impatiently. Belby took one look at the blond's face and then quickly handed it over with a muttered apology.

Hermione pressed her hand against her mouth to stop herself from laughing out loud -  _Belby looked as if he was about to piss himself_  - but somehow, an unladylike snort still managed to escape, and as a result, caused several students to turn and gaze at her questioningly.

She cleared her throat loudly, trying to pass the snort off as a cough, but it was clear they weren't buying it. In the end she just glared at them until they finally got the hint and looked away.

Once Belby stopped casting wary eyes back at Draco every few seconds, Draco turned and aimed a deadpan look at her, mouthing, " _really?'"_

Hermione shrugged and bit her lip, grinning like a fool.

He smirked, seemingly unable to help himself, as he shook his head and smoothed out the note to read it. He quickly scratched out a response and scrunch it up again, before leaning back in his chair to throw the balled-up parchment backwards over his shoulder.

Hermione, slack-jawed, watched it sailed through the air, almost certain that it would hit some other poor sod in the head. Statistically it should have, given that he threw it blindly over his shoulder, but no, it landed right in front of her on the desk. It was righteously unfair.

 _"Show off,"_ she mouthed, pouting. He simply threw her a smug look and turned back to the front of the classroom.

Draco’s response was simple and straight to the point, scrawled directly under hers in his graceful looping handwriting.

**_Meet me in the empty classroom down the hall when the lesson finishes. I have something to tell you._ **

**_\- H x_ **

**_OK_ **

**_\- D_ **

Hermione smiled and slipped the note into her bag. She noticed that he didn't put a kiss, but then again she hadn't expected him to. She wasn't even sure why she'd put a kiss. She never did that.

Frowning, Hermione tried to pay attention to what Profession Babbling was... well, babbling on about. Sometimes the Ancient Runes Professor went off on lengthy tangents, which had absolutely nothing to do with runes or anything altogether ancient for that matter.

For the rest of the lesson, Hermione did the one thing that you should never do - she clock-Watched.

When the bell did finally signal the end of class, it felt like it had been 10 years, not the standard requisite hour of a lesson.

Draco strolled into the empty classroom a few minutes after Hermione, closing and locking the door behind him.

" _Finally_ ," she breathed, going straight to him without a second thought and wrapping her arms around his neck.

Draco instantly snaked his own arms around her waist and pulled her flush to him as their lips met in a heated kiss.

They kissed for long moments, Hermione's hands desperately moving from his shoulders to splay across his chest, before finding their way into his hair and then gliding down his back.

Draco smiled against her lips and pulled back slightly. "I thought I was here because you had something you wanted to tell me?" he asked, eyebrow raised. "Or was it all just a ruse so that you could get me alone and take advantage of me?" he queried, his tone light and teasing.

"It wasn't a ruse," she murmured, kissing along his jawline to his ear. "I do have something to tell you, but also, seeing as you're here and we're alone, I think it would be a wasted opportunity to  _not_  take advantage of you. Do you have a problem with that?"

Draco smirked, his hands slipping lower over the curve of her arse. He leaned down a fraction, bringing his mouth next to her ear. "Usually, I would never agree to let anyone take advantage of me, but in this instance I think I'll allow it."

Hermione shivered. The way his breath tickled her ear, and the way his tone - which was a deep low husk - glided over her like the finest cashmere, was  _everything_. It was heavenly.

Hermione loved the way his voice would deepen and become rough whenever he was turned on. It was like an aphrodisiac, Hermione could literally feel her knickers dampen in response to him. It was just one of many aphrodisiac's Draco unwittingly supplied her with.

She reached her hand down and ran the flat of her palm over his cock, which was already hard and straining against the inside of his trousers. He let out a low breathy moan, his fingers digging into the plump flesh of her arse and squeezing.

This was another aphrodisiac, just touching him and feeling how hard he was -  _for her -_  was enough to start up a deep throb right in her core. She literally couldn't get enough of him. Her need for him seemed to be getting stronger by the day, and she wasn't going to lie, it scared the shit out of her.

"I need you," she breathed, her cheek pressed against his, his slight stubble scraping against her smooth skin. She grabbed one of his hands and ran it up the inside of her thigh, under her skirt, until she felt his fingers brush the edge of her knickers. "Touch me," she murmured, kissing the corner of his mouth. "I need you to touch me."

Draco sucked in a deep breath and cupped her through her knickers, the heel of his palm pressing firmly against her clit.

Hermione opened her mouth and let out a deep moan, pleasure pulsing throughout her entire body in wicked waves.

Yes. Yes.  _Yes!_

Draco slowly slid his hand up, his eyes hooded as he looked down at her, watching her ever-changing expressions. His fingers slipped beneath the elastic of her knickers and delved straight into her wet heat.

Hermione gasped sharply at the feel of his middle finger gliding swiftly inside her with ease.  _So good. So fucking good._ But she needed more. She needed  _all_  of him.

Draco must have sensed what she was thinking, because one minute they were standing in the middle of the classroom, and then in the next he had her laid horizontal across what would have been the teacher’s desk if this room hadn't been abandoned.

He promptly climbed on top of her, his knees spreading her legs apart as the weight of his body pressed her into the hard surface of the desk. She loved this - the weight of him on top of her, his intoxicating scent swirling around her senses, and his touch driving her crazy with desire.

Hermione reached up with one hand and gripped his chin, forcing him to look at her. Draco stilled his movements and stared down at her, his eyes bright with pupils blown-wide. His blond hair was messy across his forehead, and his cheeks looked wondrously flushed from the heat of pleasure. He was gorgeous,  _so fucking gorgeous._  Sometimes it physically hurt her to look at him. Hermione swallowed deeply, her chest heaving with all the confusing emotions battling it out in her mind.

Draco's eyes scanned her face, his brow puckered. "What is it?" he asked, his voice silky with a slight textured undercurrent. It was like crushed velvet.

Hermione pressed her lips together.  _I feel out of control. You scare me. The way you make me feel scares me. But what scares me more is that I can't stop it from happening._ She shook her head sharply. "Nothing," she swallowed. "I just want you to look at me, that's all."

Draco didn't respond to what he must surely think of as an odd request, but he didn't take his eyes off her either - not when he pulled down her knickers, nor when he unbuckled his belt and unfastened his trousers.

Hermione groaned as he entered her with one single sharp thrust. His teeth clenched, causing a muscle to jump in his jaw, and his nostrils flared.

She couldn't help but notice how perfectly they fit together, not just like this, but in every aspect. It was completely overwhelming.

She ran her hands up his back, under his shirt and jumper, revelling in the feel of his muscles undulating under his smooth skin. He was hot to the touch, scorching almost, and he hissed as her icy fingers sought to steal away some of his heat.

He didn't tell her to stop though, even when she felt him shiver and goose bumps explode all over his skin. He simply began to thrust in and out of her, slowly at first, but building in speed and intensity.

Hermione stared into his eyes, watching as they switched between varying shades of grey. His pupils danced - dilating and constricting - in a mesmerizing display of lust and pleasure. She wondered what he saw in her eyes. Were they the same? Brown pools of desire? If what she was feeling was anything to go by, then they were. She was absolutely sure of it.

Draco groaned as she tilted her hips and arched her back, allowing him to go deeper.

"Fuck, I'm not going to be long," he told her, his voice uneven and strained.

Good, because neither was she.

Hermione wrapped her legs around his waist and gasped as he began to thrust into her harder. The desk shook beneath them and banged loudly against the stone floor. All the floors were uneven in the castle so it was virtually impossible to find a desk that didn't wobble.

She felt one his hands slip under her shirt, skating over her stomach and rib-cage, before dipping under the wire of her bra. She moaned thickly as his fingers tweaked her sensitive nipples, and his palm cupped her breast, squeezing and massaging.

"Draco," she panted. "God, Draco. Yes,  _yes."_

"Fuck, Hermione," he choked. "I'm going to cum."

She moaned at his admission, her pleasure increasing tenfold. She could feel it, her orgasm was approaching, and it was approaching _fast_.

She dug her nails into his a back, a long, deep, drawn-out moan erupting from her throat.

It felt so good. She didn't want it to end, she  _never_  wanted it to end.

"Don't look away," she half-breathed, half-moaned. _“_ Don't you dare look away from me."

Draco groaned deeply, his expression one of sweet agony. His jaw loosened and his eyelids drooped as they became hooded. She could tell he was fighting against the urge to squeeze them shut, but he didn't, he kept them open, and she thought to herself that he'd never looked so  _damn_  sexy. She took a mental picture of him, wanting to remember how he looked in this moment. She never wanted to forget this. She felt his cock kick deep inside her, and she imagined she could feel him filling her up with his come.

Hermione's whole body tensed in response to him, her skin tingling mercilessly as her orgasm teetered on the edge for several agonizing seconds. It was sweet torture,  _the best kind_ , and then it was happening. Her orgasm tore through her with a force like no other. She cried out and bit her lip hard in an attempt to quiet herself, but it was hard with the mélange of pleasure crashing through her in devastating waves.

She stared up at Draco, who was still looking at her, their chests heaving as they each tried to catch their breath.

How did he do that? How did he make her orgasm like that? She'd tried to replicate the feeling a few times whilst on her own in the shower, and although it had felt good -  _really good -_ it hadn't been the same. It wasn't like when he did it. It wasn't as... powerful, with lack of a better word. Why was that? Would it be like this with any other guy? Or was it just Draco who did this to her? She'd never heard any of the other girls in her year talk about sex feeling like this.

Draco buried his face into the crook of her neck and inhaled sharply as he pressed his lips to her pulse point. He must have felt it jumping frantically. Then he got up, and started to clean himself up.

"Shit," he muttered, looking at the clock on the wall. "We're twenty minutes late for class."

Hermione lifted her hand in the air and lazily waved it to and fro. "I have a free period," she told him, still feeling a little dazed after their recent activities.

Draco turned and gaped at her. "You're joking?"

"No," she answered, sighing in deep contentment.

Draco let out a huff of incredulity. "Unbelievable," he shook his head in disbelief. "This all makes sense now. I should have known that you'd never be late to class. In fact, you would have never even asked to meet me in the first place! But what about me? What am I going to do now?"

Hermione sat up and gazed at him. He was fastening his trousers, almost angrily, and giving her a narrow-eyed look. She smiled at him and swung her legs over the side of the desk. "Are you trying to say that you regret what we just did?" she asked, eyebrow raised. "Do you wish you'd gone to class instead?"

Draco crossed his arms over his chest, his legs slightly apart as they supported his weight evenly. "Yes," he answered, a slight scowl marring his otherwise perfect features. "I do regret it."

Hermione, who had been pulling her knickers on and straightening her skirt, turned to stare at him, her heart dropping with a mixture of shock, dread, and disbelief. Did he really mean that? Surely not. Had she been reading it all wrong? Oh,  _God_. She gazed at his face, which was a mask of indifference, and felt her blood turn cold. "Oh," she muttered, feeling her cheeks flame with a mixture of mortification and hurt. "Sorry, I... I don't... I'm not sure why..."

Draco tilted his head forward and looked up at her through his lashes, a sly grin crawling its way up his cheeks.

He looked positively  _devious_. The sly snake.

Hermione glared at him and stomped her foot in outrage. "You arsehole!" she bellowed. "Jesus, Draco. I thought you were being serious!"

"Are you kidding? Come on, why the fuck would I want to be listening to Flitwick waffle on when I could be here with you?" he laughed and walked towards her, pulling her into his arms. She fought him for a moment, but soon gave up, he was too strong for her anyway.

She felt relieved, so fucking relieved, and it just proved how much she still doubted everything. And why wouldn't she? Yes, things had changed between them, undeniably so, but they hadn’t spoken about it. In fact, they hadn't said one word to each other. This was still just a fling, nothing serious. Something that could end in a heartbeat... Shit, the thought was repugnant. Deep down she knew the reason why she wasn't talking to him about any of it. It's because what would she say? His family were still on the dark side and she was, obviously, still firmly with the light. It was the same problem that had always been there from the very beginning. Only now it was worse,  _so much worse_. What if he didn't feel the same way as she did? Or what if he did feel the same way?... She couldn't figure out which was more devastating.

"I'm still angry with you," she told him, grumbling under her breath, as she tried to shake the dread she felt. She wrapped her arms around his waist.

Draco, unaware of her internal sufferings, hummed deeply, the sound low and sinful. "Good. I like it when you're angry."

Hermione chuckled despite herself, thankful for the distraction. "You do not."

"Oh, yes I do," he promised her, his tone serious. "You can take it out on me tonight. I'll even rile you up some more, get you good and furious."

Hermione sighed and pressed her face into his chest, breathing him in. "As good as that sounds, unfortunately I can't," she muttered regretfully. "That's why I wanted to meet you now. Ron is still in the hospital wing and he hasn't woken up yet. I should really be there when he does."

Draco stiffened slightly at her words and gently pushed her back as he stepped away to retrieve his wand, which, Hermione hadn't realized, had fallen to the floor at some point. She watched him, worrying her lip between her teeth.

Was he annoyed that she was choosing to see Ron over him? Didn't he understand? Ron was her friend and he'd almost died.

"How is Weasley?" Draco asked, turning to gaze at her as he artfully spun his wand between his fingers. Gone was the light joking air that had suffused him before, now he was almost cold and standoffish.

Hermione ducked her head and tucked her hair behind her ear in an attempt to hide her surprise. The last thing she'd expected to come out of his mouth was  _that_. He hated Ron. But why was he being so cold and distant? "He's not great," she told him, deciding to go along with it. "But he's going to be fine. Last night was touch and go, but Madam Pomfrey has promised us that he will make a full recovery."

Draco released a deep breath and nodded. For a split second, he almost looked relieved _,_ which of course didn't make any sense whatsoever, but then it was gone and his cool mask was back in place. Hermione started to wonder whether she'd just imagined it. "You must be pleased," he said, almost clinically.

Hermione frowned at him. "Draco," she began. "You know that I only think of Ron as a friend, right? That's all, he's just my friend and he was poisoned. I should be there for him. He needs all the support he can get."

Draco closed his eyes. "I know that, Hermione. Of course you should be there for him. I understand that."

"You do?" she asked hesitantly.  _Then why are you being like this?_

"I do," he assured her, but his tone was short and clipped. "I'm glad he's going to make a full recovery. I may not like Weasley, but I would never wish him any harm. Not permanent, anyway."

Hermione’s eyes scanned his face. She believed every word he said, but there was something seriously wrong here. "Thank you for saying that. I know you and Ron don't see eye-to-eye, so I really appreciate it."

Draco nodded, the movement stiff. He was tense -  _really tense_  - she could see it in his posture. His back was ramrod-straight. “Well, I guess I should go," he muttered.

 _No, wait._  She wanted to say.  _Tell me what's wrong first. I know something's wrong, just tell me. Have I done or said something wrong?_  But instead she just smiled and nodded. "OK."

Draco simply turned away from her and headed towards the door. He didn't say goodbye, he didn't even look back at her over his shoulder. What was this about? She couldn't let him walk out without knowing. She ran after him and tugged on his arm just as he reached out for the door handle. "Wait! Draco, is something wrong? Because I feel like there is."

He gazed at her, his eyes storm-grey and turbulent. "There's nothing wrong," he said, looking her straight in the eye, but she noticed his left eye twitch, ever so slightly. And she knew, she just  _knew_.

_He's lying. Why is he lying?_

Hermione hated it. She wanted to demand to know what was going on, but at the same time she didn't want to push it. She knew him well enough to know that forcing it out of him would only make matters worse and push him further away, so she bit her tongue. As much as it pained her to do so.

"Will I see you tomorrow?" she asked, needing to say something,  _anything_. "Or Friday? I'm leaving on Saturday. I really want to see you before I go."

"Sure," he agreed, one corner of his mouth lifting.

Hermione breathed out a little sigh of relief. At least he was still willing to meet her. Perhaps this wasn't about her, then? Maybe he just needed a bit of time and then he would tell her? Or maybe there wasn’t really anything wrong and he was just having one of his moments? Fucking hell, she was reading into this way too much. Was she going crazy? "Great," she grinned. "Oh, but I must warn you. Harry found the map," at the look on Draco's face, Hermione cringed, her expression one of deep regret. "It's a long story, but he has it now and there's no way I can get it back."

Draco gritted his teeth together angrily. "Great, that's all I fucking need. Potter stalking my every move again."

"I know," she sympathized. "I'll talk to him over Christmas, don't worry."

Draco gazed at her for long moments, before finally relaxing his shoulders and nodding. "Alright," he said, sighing a little as he rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. "Send me a note and let me know when and where you want to meet," he turned to leave, but Hermione pulled him back into a hug.

It took a minute, but eventually he was hugging her back. After a few moments, Hermione realised that it wasn't enough. So she tugged on his neck, pulling him down and capturing his lips. They kissed deeply, tongues battling for dominance as hands roamed freely over curves and hard lines.

It was Draco who pulled away first, kissing her cheek once before turning and walking away.

"Bye," she called out after him, her stomach still in knots.

Hermione didn't end up meeting up with him the next day. She sent him a note in Potions to tell him that Ron had woken up and she was spending the evening in the hospital wing with Harry and Ron's family. He responded saying it was fine and he'd see her on Friday instead, but she didn't see him Friday either. In fact, she didn’t see him _anywhere_ \- not in the Great Hall at breakfast, or in the corridors between classes. She found out later that Draco didn't show up to _any_ of his classes. Worried, she sent him a letter via owl, asking him where he was and if he wanted to meet up that night, but he didn't respond. After fretting for several hours, almost out of her mind wondering where he was and if he was OK, Hermione found herself doing something irrevocably stupid.

"Zabini!" she called out.

Blaise Zabini turned around, eyebrows raised. "Granger," he said, sounding more than a little surprised. She couldn’t blame him. Hermione wasn’t sure that she’d ever spoken one word to him before.

She stopped in front of him and opened her mouth to say something, but then quickly closed it. Jesus, what the hell was she doing? Draco was probably just not feeling well. She was being completely ridiculous. Not to mention, careless.

Zabini eyed her shrewdly. "What is it? Have you lost your way to the Library or something?" he asked, an amused smile playing at his lips. "I'm not sure why you're asking me for directions. There are plenty of other people milling around. Go pester someone else."

The fact that Hermione could see the Library from where she stood, only proved how much of a wanker Zabini was. She glared at him as he turned to walk away, hands casually stuffed inside his pockets. God, Hermione could already see why Draco liked him so much. They had that same  _prick-ish_  air about them. "Where's Draco?" she demanded, her tone sharp and commanding.

At her words, Zabini froze midstep and slowly turned back towards her, his face eerily blank. "Draco?" he asked, his tone deepening a fraction. He stared at her intensely, his brown eyes dark and unnerving.

Hermione's eyes widened as she suddenly realised her mistake.

Shit. _Shit!_ She'd said Draco. Why the hell had she said Draco?!

"Hmm, that's strange," he pondered aloud. He crossed his left arm over his chest and brought his right hand up to his face as he began to stroke his chin with his thumb and forefinger. "I didn't know you were on a first name basis with Draco."

"No! I'm not," she rushed to correct. "That was a mistake," she let out a short bark of a laugh and scrunched up her face. "I don't know why I said that.  _Weird_."

Zabini smiled darkly. "Indeed," he murmured, drilling her with a look that made her feel stripped down and naked.

"You know what, never mind," she said casually, waving her hand in the air, even though she felt anything but casual. "I just wanted to ask him a question about the Ancient Runes project we're working on together. It doesn't matter though, it can wait."

Zabini stared at her, his eyes pining her in place. She wanted to move -  _just fucking move -_ but she couldn't. His face was completely unreadable and she didn’t like it. Did all Slytherins learn how to do that? Was it a prerequisite? Or had he been hanging around with Draco too long? Zabini quickly looked up and down the corridor and then stepped closer to her. "He's with Snape," he told her lowly. "He's been with him all day."

With Snape? Why would he be with Snape? And all day for that matter. Was it his father? Had they found him?

"Why?" she breathed, forgetting herself in the face of this new information. "Is he OK? What's happened?"

Zabini appeared to suck in a breath, but it was silent, Hermione only noticed because of the way his chest rapidly expanded. "Fuck _me_ ," he gritted and grabbed her arm, pulling her off to one side where they had more privacy.

"I beg your pardon?" Hermione snapped. "Ouch!" she hissed, twisting her arm in an attempt to free herself. "Get off me. You're hurting me!"

"Am I the first person you've approached?" he demanded, his tall form looming over her and crowding her personal space.

"What?" she frowned. What was he talking about?

He growled at her, he  _literally_  growled at her. "Have you asked anyone else where Draco is? _For fuck’s sake_ ," he muttered the last part under his breath as he pinched the bridge of his nose impatiently.

"No," she shook her head, feeling thoroughly confused now.

"Thank God for small miracles. Let's fucking keep it that way, shall we?" he spun away from her and stormed off in the opposite direction he'd been heading in previously.

_What the fuck?_

"Wait! Zabini?" she yelled, unable to hide her frustration. What the bloody hell was that about? Was he seriously just going to walk off without an explanation?

Zabini looked up towards the heavens as she caught up to him and blocked his path. "Granger, seriously -"

"No!" Hermione cut him off, her tone harsh. "Why did you ask that? Why did you want to know if I'd approached anyone else?"

Zabini gazed at her, his expression one of disbelief. "Are you for real, Granger?" At the bewildered look on her face he continued, his tone getting angrier with every spoken word. "Because it's bad enough that I know you're fucking Draco. Do you want everyone else to know too?"

Stunned, Hermione stumbled backwards, grasping for purchase on the cold stone wall. Oh no. Oh no, no, no. "That's...  _No_ ," she swallowed, shaking her head fiercely. "It's not true. I'm not -"

"Save it," he scoffed, holding his hand up. He looked thoroughly unimpressed.

Oh, God. What had she done?

"I'll admit," he continued. "It wasn't particularly hard for me to figure it out. I've known for a while that Draco's been shagging someone in Gryffindor, and I knew it was someone of a somewhat scandalous nature. But I never, _in a million years_ , would have guessed it was _you_. Fuck, this isn't just scandalous, he could get himself fucking  _killed!_ You can't just go around asking people where he is. They may not have the information I have, but they will get suspicious. That I can promise you. And you don't want a suspicious Slytherin on your case, trust me. I don't know if you were trying to be subtle before, but worry is written all over your face. It's so fucking obvious what is going on here. Jesus, Granger. Are you actually trying to get him killed?" he demanded furiously.

"No!" she brought her hand up to her mouth, a dry sob escaping her lips.

Killed? _Killed?_ Her mind reeled at his words, trying to make sense of them. Zabini was angry and obviously concerned for Draco’s welfare, but why? She knew what she and Draco were doing was dangerous, but with Voldemort back at large was anyone really safe? _No_. Yet, there was something in Zabini’s tone that gave her pause - was Draco in more imminent danger than she was aware? She thought back to the last time she’d seen him, he’d been acting strange - _very strange_. She knew without a doubt that he was hiding something from her, she just didn’t know what. Hermione hoped to God she was overanalysing all this, and that Zabini was just being overly dramatic, because the alternative was unthinkable.

Zabini closed his eyes and cupped his hands over his face. He looked troubled and she suddenly found herself struggling to breathe.

How could she let this happen? She was stupid, so fucking stupid! What had she been thinking? Everything Zabini had just said was right, she knew that, so why had she thought it was a good idea to ask around to see where Draco was?...Because she wanted to see him. She wanted to see him before she left for Christmas break. That was no excuse though. It was no excuse for blatant stupidity. This wasn't like her, she would never normally do something this idiotic.

"Please," she begged, voice cracking. Her throat felt uncomfortably tight and constricted. "Please, don't tell anyone. If anything happens to him -"

"I would  _never!"_ he spat, his expression incredulous. "He is like a brother to me. Don't you  _ever_  -"

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," she rushed to placate. "I didn't know you were that close."

"Well we are!" he exploded angrily.

Hermione bit her lip apologetically. She could feel herself slipping into a deep well of despair. She was right on the precipice, looking down into all-consuming darkness. When Draco found out about this he would be so angry,  _so fucking angry_. What would he say to her? What would he do? Would he end it?

Zabini bent over and gripped his head in both hands, taking a deep steadying breath. When he straightened up he looked only marginally calmer. "I apologise, Granger. This is... a lot."

Understatement of the century, but she knew what he meant.

"I understand." Of course she did. He was worried about his friend, who just happened to be the same person she was also worried about.

"I don't know how much Draco has told you -" he began, his words slow and precise.

"He hasn't told me anything really, not about,  _you know_ , the war," Hermione threaded her fingers together in front of her. "We don't talk about it. I just know about his father and how he's run away. Is that why he's with Snape?" she asked, brow puckered. “Have they found him?”

"I don't know," he admitted, shaking his head.

"God, he's going to be so angry with me when he finds out you know," she muttered under her breath. It was so quiet that she wasn't even sure Zabini had heard her. She was hoping he hadn't.

Zabini smirked, of all bloody things he _smirked_. "Oh yeah. He's going to be fucking furious," he agreed, looking mighty pleased with the aspect.

This did nothing to lessen Hermione's anxiety. She groaned aloud. "Why do you suddenly look so happy about it?"

"No reason," he smiled innocently, which sent Hermione's senses into overdrive. Those sneaky Slytherins, you could never trust them. "I'll speak to him, Granger. Don't worry," Zabini offered, smoothing his jumper with the flat of his hand. "Perhaps, I'll be able to lessen the blow a little."

Hermione nodded, wondering if that was at all possible. How would Zabini even approach the subject? Personally, she wouldn't know where to begin. Draco was like a live wire at times, you had to be careful.

"In the meantime," he pinched his thumb and forefinger together and ran them over his lips as he gave her a meaningful look. In other words, he was saying _keep your trap shut._

He didn't need to tell her twice.

On Saturday morning, Hermione, Harry and Ginny stood in the entrance hall waiting for the next carriage to arrive and take them to the station. Ron had already taken a  _Portkey_  home as he was too weak to travel by train.

Hermione tried her hardest to listen to Harry and Ginny's animated conversation about Quidditch, but she couldn't concentrate. Not only was it almost boring her to tears, but she also couldn't get her mind off Draco.

She was worried about him, after her talk with Zabini yesterday she couldn’t seem to shake the unease she felt, but she tried to ignore it. He was safe here, nothing could happen to him.

She hated that she was leaving without seeing him one last time. It would be two whole weeks before she'd get see him again, and the thought was practically unbearable. She wondered if Zabini had told him about what happened yesterday. Maybe that's why she hadn't heard from him? Perhaps he was ignoring her because he was pissed? She hated that she was obsessing about it, about _him_. She shouldn’t care so much. Hermione usually made fun of girls who mooned and obsessed over boys. It was absolutely ridiculous. And now here she was, doing just that. It probably wouldn't have been so bad if she'd just had a chance to talk to him, to get some reassurance that he was OK...How on earth was she going to get through Christmas break if this was how she was acting after only two days?

Hermione sighed deeply and gave herself a good mental shake.  _Get a grip of yourself! You're a strong independent woman. Draco is fine. He will be here when you get back, you can talk to him then. It's not the end of the bloody world._

The carriage arrived a few minutes later, and she, Harry and Ginny loaded their chests onto the back before clambering in.

Hermione turned and stared at the castle as the carriage - which was pulled by Thestrals she couldn't see - pulled away and began clattering down the long, winding path. She kept her eyes on the castle until the trees obscured her view and made it impossible to see it anymore.

_See you soon, Draco. Be safe._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I'd love to hear your thoughts. Sorry for the late upload, but this time of year is always crazy for me with it being the end of the financial year. I'm glad it's over!
> 
> Thanks so much, Black_Osmosis for beta reading this chapter! :-D
> 
> I did have another play around with it after she sent it back, so any mistakes are my own.


	14. Chapter 14

Draco stared out of a window on the first floor corridor, watching Hermione's eyes scan the castle as if it was the last time she'd ever see it. God, he wished he knew what was going through her mind in that moment and what was making her look so despondent and lost. He couldn't imagine what was causing it. She was going home to her family, she should be happy and in high spirits.

He continued to watch Hermione's carriage depart, long after he couldn't make out her figure anymore, until it eventually disappeared behind the trees.

He felt a pang of regret that he didn't get to see her one last time before she left for Christmas break, but with all that went on yesterday it was almost impossible for him to escape Snape's office. He supposed he could have sent her a return note briefly explaining what was going on - he'd received a handful from her asking him where he was and if he was alright - but with Snape breathing down his neck for the better part of the day, Draco didn't think it was wise. Each time a new note would arrive, he'd barely manage to keep the nosy git from reading its contents before he'd throw it into the fireplace where it burned to ashes. Snape would look at him suspiciously, obviously wondering whom all the notes were from, and at one point was even bold enough to outright ask after Draco had burned the 4 - or was is the 5th? - note. Unsurprisingly, Draco had snapped viciously for him to mind his own business, which only heightened Snape's suspicions. It had been a long day to say the least, for more reason than one.

One huge reason being that Draco's father was almost caught and killed by the Death Eaters. Yes, not news Draco had anticipated waking up to on a lovely, yet crisp, Friday morning, but that was neither here nor there. Throughout the day, Draco and Snape had received updates on the presumably dire situation, which Draco had been sure would end in his father's demise. The Death Eaters had chased Lucius halfway across Britain and part way into France, before they unbelievably lost track of him at around 8:30 pm. It had been a long thirteen hour pursuit, which thankfully,  _for Lucius_ , ended with his head still intact. How he'd managed that was anyone's guess.  _Lucky bastard_.

God knows where he was now, he could be in Australia for all Draco knew. The whole thing was bloody ridiculous. He wouldn't have even been discovered if he hadn't tried to break into the Manor -  _imagine having to break into your own sodding home?_  - Presumably, and this is according to Snape, to try and rescue Narcissa. Although, Draco wasn't convinced. That seemed far too compassionate and honorable for the selfish swine. Yes, Draco was still feeling disgruntled where his father was concerned, but even so, he should have been just a  _little_  worried about his father's welfare, considering if he did get caught he would undoubtedly die a horrifying death. As it turned out, Draco wasn't. Lucius had brought this on himself. Also, what on earth was he thinking? Did he honestly think that would work? Draco conveniently blocked out the memory of him contemplating doing the same thing just a few weeks back. This wasn't about his rash stupidity, it was about his father's. All Draco felt towards Lucius at the moment was anger encased in a whopping load of guilt. Guilt, because deep down he knew that he should be feeling worried and concerned. Did that make him a horrible person? Of course it did. Most of the time he  _was_  a horrible person. He couldn't change the way he felt though, not when his mother was suffering because of his father's greed for power.

So, that's why he had been in Snape's office all day yesterday, waiting for news on whether his father had survived or not - kind of morbid when it was put like that, but it is what it is.

His father was safe...  _for now_.

Draco turned, intending to head to the Great Hall for some breakfast, when he noticed Blaise leaning against the wall watching him. He had his hands stuffed in his trouser pockets and his right leg bent at the knee as he rested his foot on the walls uneven surface. He would have looked the epitome of cool and casual if it wasn't for his shit-eating grin.

Draco instantly became suspicious, his spidey sense tingling almost uncontrollably. He knew that grin very well and in his experience it meant nothing but bad news. Considering that this wasn't a one off and Blaise had been throwing him that very same grin all morning didn't bode well at all. This was Blaise's  _shower-me-with-unicorn-dust-because-I'm-fucking-amazing_  grin. Draco assumed he must have found some dirt... but on who?

"Blaise," Draco nodded, grey eyes narrowing. He took his friend in from head to toe, his expression deeply scrutinizing, letting Blaise know that he was on to him.

"Draco," Blaise nodded back, his grin widening and almost taking over his entire face.

_Buggar fucking shit. This was NOT good._

Draco gazed at him, trying to figure out what was causing this nauseating show of jubilation. By the looks of it, it was something mighty juicy and Draco had a horrible feeling that he wasn't going to like it.

"Why aren't you downstairs waiting for the carriages?" Draco asked carefully, his persona one of mild intrigue and not showing a single ounce of the wariness he felt.

"Oh, I just wanted to see my best mate one more time before I left, and maybe give him a hug seeing as he escaped the one I tried to bestow on him earlier this morning. You know, you should feel privileged, I don't just hug anyone. I can count on one hand the amount of people I've gifted with a hug -"

" _Gifted with a hug?_ " Draco interrupted on a bark of laughter. "You think your hugs are gifts?" he chuckled despite himself. He could always count on Blaise for a good laugh, what with all the utter shit that gushed from his mouth like water from the Spout of Garnock.

Blaise smirked. "They're the gift that keeps giving. Once I hug you you'll feel it's warm embrace for the rest of your life. Here," Blaise opened his arms wide, "I'll show you."

Draco abruptly stopped laughing. "Seriously, Blaise. If you try to hug me again. I  _will_  hurt you," he warned, taking a tentative step back. "Twice in one day is quite enough, thank you."

Blaise dropped his arms and shook his head in mock dismay. "Why do you have to be so difficult? I know you'll love it. I'm telling you, I'll hug you one day and you'll wonder why you resisted for so long. In fact you'll probably never want me to stop. You'll be demanding me to hug you all the time."

Draco scrunched up his face in disgust, Blaise's talk of hugs thoroughly distracting him from his previous skepticism of why Blaise was even seeking him out in the first place. Because it certainly wasn't for a bloody hug. That was obviously just a ruse. Nevertheless, luckily for Blaise it was working. "Well, that sounds rather inconvenient, how on earth will you get anything done if you have to hug me all the time? If you ask me, I'm doing you a favor. Let it go.  _Please_ , just let it go. For Christ's sake."

In truth, Blaise had been trying to hug Draco for as long as he could remember. Yes, it sounded strange - why would Blaise want to hug him so badly? but that's just how he was. Draco imagined that over the years it had become somewhat of a goal or challenge for Blaise. If he did ever manage to hug Draco, he would feel like he'd won some great prize. It was never going to happen, but if Blaise was anything he was persistent. So, nothing Draco did or said deterred him...  _unfortunately_ , but Circe had he tried.

Blaise sighed deeply. "Fine, fine. Apparently today is not the day. No matter, we have the rest of our lives -" Draco let out a long suffering groan "- I'll get one out of you eventually, I'm sure of it."

"Don't be so sure," Draco told him. "Not unless you enjoy crushing disappointment."

Blaise ignored him and brought his right hand up to his chin and stroked it in contemplation. "Or Maybe I should just ask Granger how she manages it. I imagine that she has no problem in the hug department, or  _any_  department for that matter. Perhaps she can give me a few pointers."

"What?" Draco hissed the sound so sharp it sliced through the air like a hot knife through butter.

"What?" Blaise echoed calmly, his face the picture of innocence.

Draco stared at Blaise for long moments, his heart racing in his chest. His expression must look ridiculous, because the deep shock he was currently feeling was surely written all over it. Had Blaise really just said what Draco thought he'd said? Or had he misheard him?  _What the fuck?!_

"What did you just say?" Draco asked slowly, his voice so low and dangerous it would have had Voldemort second guessing.

Not Blaise though, oh no. "I said," Blaise began conversationally, like he was repeating his picks for the Quidditch final. "I should ask Granger how she manages it because -"

Draco sucked in a sharp breath and slapped a hand over Blaise's mouth, swiftly looking up and down the corridor to make sure no one was listening. Mercifully they were still alone.

_Holy fucking shit! How the fuck did he find out about them?_

Draco stared at Blaise's face and watched as his friend of so many years blinked back at him, cool as a cucumber, not even the slightest bit ruffled. "Blaise, I want to know what the fuck is going on here, right now!" he growled menacingly. The way Blaise was acting so blasé about it was very telling indeed. He hadn't just guessed at this, or stumbled upon a bit of information and built on it. He'd spoken to someone, Draco was sure of it. And seeing as Blaise hadn't spoken to him, that left only one other person.  _Granger._  Yes, she was  _Granger_  again because he was  _pissed!_

Blaise gave him a deadpan look and pointed to Draco's hand that was still covering his mouth.

_Oh._

Draco gritted his teeth and removed his hand. He then began pacing up and down, his strides long and forceful like a caged wild animal.

Looking extremely happy with himself, Blaise perched on the edge of the window sill, head turning this way and that as his eyes followed Draco's enraged form. All he needed now was a bowl of popcorn and he'd be all set.

"Well?!" Draco snapped after a full two minutes had passed by, stopping right in front of Blaise and towering over him with his large intimidating form. It would have worked on  _anyone_  else, they would have been spluttering and spilling their guts in an instance, but Blaise had always been an anomaly.

"Well, what?" Blaise asked, blinking up at him, his whole aura emanating a sort of peaceful quality, which quite frankly didn't fit the situation and only angered Draco more.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON!?" Draco all but roared.

Blaise leaned back with the force of it and wiggled his finger in his ear before answering. "Oh that, well, I know about you and Granger," he told the blond, shrugging. "I thought that was obvious. Come on, Draco, Keep up."

Draco's expression darkened. "Don't test me, Blaise," he warned, pointing his finger in the other boy's face. "Not with this. When did she talk to you?"

"Yesterday," Blaise answered, sagging a little. He'd clearly been hoping to mess with him a little more, but could obviously tell that Draco was almost at his limit and knew it wouldn't be good for his health if he pushed the blond any further. So instead, he proceeded to give Draco a brief rundown of how it all came about.

"Un- _fucking_ -believable," Draco muttered once Blaise had finished. "Fucking  _hell_. Thank Christ she went to you and not someone else."

"That's exactly what I said," Blaise nodded in agreement. "She can't lie for  _shit_." Draco shot him a withering look. "Sorry," he offered, holding his hands up in defence, "... but she can't," he finished under his breath.

Of course she bloody can't. Draco already knew that she was a terrible liar, but  _fuck_ , this was all his fault. He should have just sent her a quick note back so that she wasn't losing her mind with worry. To be honest, he still couldn't get his head around  _why_  she was even worrying about him in the first place. It was a new concept for him and one he was still getting used to,  _evidently_. But what was really throwing him for a loop right now was how well Blaise was taking it all, especially considering he'd only found out yesterday.

Draco threw Blaise a look like he'd suddenly sprouted horns and a tail. "You're taking this very well," he snapped, his tone accusatory. "I know you're a freak and never react appropriately to situations, but _surely_  you have something to say about  _this?_ " he demanded.

Blaise seemed to consider him for a moment before finally answering. "Oh! Yes, actually. Do you think you could ask Granger to put in a good word for me with the lovely Miss Luna Lovegood?" he asked, dark brown eyes wide and expectant.

Draco stared at him in astonishment. "Are you fucking serious? That's all you have to say? You want me to get Hermione to sing your praises to Lovegood?  _Really?!_ "

"Well, what else do you want me to say?" Blaise asked, tilting his head to the side and giving Draco a perplexed look.

"I don't know!" Draco exploded in pure frustration. "Maybe yell at me? Call me a fucking idiot. Something along those lines! For Fucks sake, Blaise. Can't you just have a normal reaction for once in your life?" he looked at his friend almost desperately. He  _wanted_  to be shouted out, maybe it would give him some much needed strength to do the right thing.

Blaise smiled and stood up. "Draco, you're a smart man...  _usually_ ," he began sincerely, reaching out to grip the blond's shoulder firmly with his right hand. "You don't need me to tell you how much of a fucking idiot you are... I'm sure you're already well aware of it," he finished matter-of-factly.

Draco smiled, if not a little reluctantly. "Gee, thanks. I don't know whether to take that as a compliment or be horribly insulted."

"Take it as a complisult. Actually, there is one thing I'd like to do, if you don't mind?" Blaise asked graciously, steepling his fingers in front of him.

Draco had barely nodded his head in consensus when Blaise swiftly brought his hand up and smacked him hard across the back of the head.

" _Ow!_ " the blond complained as he rubbed the sore spot, scowling.

"Sorry, but you deserved that."

Draco sighed. "I suppose I did. At least it was a marginally more appropriate reaction, if not a little delayed. Nevertheless, well done."

"Thank you. I'm quite certain that it's far too late to be knocking sense into you now, but that definitely made me feel better, so all's not lost," Blaise told him as he leaned in for a hug.

"Oh, not again," Draco moaned, pushing firmly at his chest and keeping him at arm's length. Blaise puckered his lips and made kissing noises whilst he tried desperately to wrap his arms around the blond. "Fuck off, Blaise," he grumbled, thoroughly disgruntled. "If you kiss me, you  _will_  die.  _Stop it._ "

"But, why? You hug and kiss Granger all the time," Blaise pouted, looking put out. "It's not fair, I've known you way longer than she has."

"Firstly, that's irrelevant. Secondly, are you jealous?" he half-smirked, half-frowned. "Thirdly, I do a lot of things with Hermione, but that doesn't mean I'm going to do them with  _you_. Stop being ridiculous."

Blaise suddenly beamed, eyes sparkling with barely contained mirth. "I bet you do you horny devil. I want details of all these  _things_  you do with  _Hermione_. I haven't had a shag in ages, I need something to think about when I'm -"

Draco gave him a light but effective smack to the cheek. "Don't you dare think about Hermione while you're wanking, otherwise I'll chop it off!" he growled menacingly. "Do you understand?"

Blaise pressed his lips together to hide a smirk. "Perfectly."

Draco stepped back and released a long steadying breath. He had no idea where that had come from, but the thought of Blaise, _or anyone for that matter_ , thinking of Hermione in any sort of sexual manner made him want to commit several vicious murders.

"Bloody hell, mate, you're fucked," Blaise told him rather bluntly, shaking his head in commiseration.

"What? What do you mean? I'm not fucked. Why would I be fucked? Do you mean because of the way I just reacted?" Draco rambled, trying desperately to play the whole thing off as a misunderstanding, but instead coming across like a fumbling lunatic. "That was just a natural reaction to someone wanting to fantasize about my... about my... about,  _Hermione_."

Blaise crossed his arms and pinned Draco with a calculating look. "Uh-uh," he shook his head, his lips pursed. "That was anything but natural. That was  _sickening_. You've never had any problems telling me about your sexcapades in the past, in fact, you'd offer the information up freely, _in great detail_ , without me even having to ask."

Draco sneered, brushing him off. "Whatever, that's not how I remember it. You're a mithering git!" Blaise was about to argue, but Draco cut him off. "Can you just stop? I don't want to talk about it! It doesn't matter anyway. It's not going to last, so what's the point?" he did his best to look indifferent, like he didn't care either way, but deep down he knew that wasn't true, because he did care. More than he should.

"It's not going to last?" Blaise asked, forehead wrinkling. "You really think so?"

"Of course it's not," Draco laughed humorlessly. "What do you think is going to happen when she finds out about..." he trailed off, glancing down at his left arm.  _She'll run a mile. She'll be disgusted. She'll hate me._ He closed his eyes, his fists clenching and jaw tightening.

For the first time during the whole conversation, Blaise actually looked worried for his friend. "Draco, you need to tell her, and if you don't think that you can then you should break it off. Either way, it's only going to hurt you both more in the end if you don't do something. You can't keep going on like this. It's not fair on either of you."

Draco expelled a deep breath through his nose and opened his eyes. The look he was met with made him feel instantly uncomfortable. Blaise knew him very well, probably better than anyone knew him. There was no point in lying and trying to make it look like he didn't care, or it didn't matter, because Blaise would see right through it. Of course, he would pretend to go along with whatever Draco said, that's what good friends do, but Draco was _tired_ , he was sick of pretending. "I know," he nodded. "You're right. I'll talk to her after Christmas break."

"Good," Blaise clapped him on the back. "You never know, she may surprise you. She is a Gryffindor after all. You know what they're like. They do the exact opposite of what you think they'll do. Bloody pain in the arses the lot of them. Anyway, better dash, otherwise I'll be spending Christmas with you."

"Oh, God, _no_. We can't be having that," Draco joked, giving him a shove. "Say 'hi' to your mother for me, and... what's his name? Frank?"

"No, that was last year's squeeze. This year it's Sergio. Not met the chap yet, but I'm sure he's just as delightful as his predecessors," Blaise smirked, his tone heavy with sarcasm. "Be safe, Draco. I'll see you in a few weeks. Oh, and don't forget, make sure Hermione puts in a good word for me with Luna, preferably  _before_  you have  _'the talk'_... you know, just in case she leaves your sorry arse. At least one of us should be happy, don't you agree?" he winked and turned to walk away.

Draco smiled crookedly and shook his head.  _Bloody Wanker_. That's what he loved most about Blaise though. He never took anything seriously, he could make light of pretty much any situation, no matter what it was. You'd think that would be unhelpful and even anger Draco, and perhaps it did sometimes, but it also kept him from completely losing his shit. He honestly didn't know what he'd do without Blaise, he'd helped him through some of the most difficult of times... with his questionable charm and heavy sarcasm. Yet, Draco wouldn't have him any other way.

* * *

The minutes merged into hours, and the hours merged into days, and before Draco knew what hit him it was Christmas day.

For the past week it felt like he had done nothing except work on the cabinet. He was so close to fixing it, yet still so far away. It was incredibly frustrating. He had managed to send inanimate objects through to its sister cabinet in Borkin and Burkes, but they never returned. He just couldn't understand  _why_ , he had tried virtually everything, yet it still wasn't functioning properly.

Draco decided that, seeing as it was Christmas, he would give himself the day off and vowed not to think about how much he was fucking everything up. He would attack the cabinet with a clear head first thing in the morning, and spend the rest of the time before the students returned using everything in his arsenal to fix the damn thing, once and for all. He dreaded to think what would happen if he failed. The Dark Lord had been growing increasingly impatient as of late and Snape had told Draco that if he didn't get it fixed, very soon, then there would be hell to pay. Then there was the problem of Dumbledore, the old coot was  _still_  alive, not for a lack of trying... actually that was a lie. Draco hadn't really been trying. If he really wanted Dumbledore dead, it would have been done and dusted by now. He didn't particularly like the old bastard, but that didn't mean he wanted to kill him. Draco had been fannying around with a cursed necklace and a poisoned bottle of whiskey, hoping that they would eventually land in the hands of the great Albus Dumbledore and see him off to the afterlife, without Draco  _really_  having to do anything. But when had anything been that straightforward and easy? In the end, all Draco had managed to do was nearly kill Katie Bell and Ron Weasley.  _Christ_. That was another thing Hermione would hate him for if she ever found out. If she could ever get past the fact that he was a Death Eater, he very much doubted she'd forgive him for nearly killing one of her best friends, no matter how indirect it was. There was nothing he could do to change it though, so there was no use waxing on about it.

Draco walked into the common room and situated himself in his favorite armchair in front of the roaring fire. It was strange being the only one there when usually it was bustling with activity. Everything was so still and quiet, except for the low crackling flames in the hearth. Even the lake beyond the windows seemed motionless, not a single Grindylow in sight. Draco couldn't figure out if he liked it, or absolutely hated it.

When he didn't turn up for breakfast, the House-elves brought him down some bacon and eggs on toast and a large pot of coffee, probably by the request of McGonagall who was one of the few teachers staying behind this break. He ate slowly, taking his time savoring every bite. Yes, it was only bacon and eggs, but Draco couldn't remember the last time he had actually paid attention to what he was eating. Everything seemed to taste the same these days and most of the time he was shoveling it down his throat too fast to notice anyway. This was a nice change. He wondered if he would ever come to a point in his life again where he'd be able to just sit and take his time enjoying meals. It seemed an impossibility most of the time, but there were moments where hope would seep through. Ironically when he was with Hermione, which was ridiculous and, let's be honest, cruel. After he had his "talk" with her it would all be over. There was no way around it. He had to tell her. Just like Blaise had said, it wasn't fair on either of them. He just needed to gather the strength to do it... or he could end it and not say anything. Draco knew that wasn't right though, he couldn't do that to her, she deserved to know the truth.

After he finished breakfast, he filled his coffee cup and grabbed an old Quidditch magazine off the side table. There was a copy of that day's  _Daily Prophet_  lying next to it, but Draco ignored it. He couldn't face reading another article on all the reasons why Lucius Malfoy was on the run, he would rather scratch his own eyes out than read that drivel.

Every so often, he would look up from the magazine and eye the small number of presents under the Christmas tree. They were obviously for him - who else would they be for? But he just couldn't bring himself to walk over and open them. It was probably because he knew that none of them were from his parents, or his mother more specifically. She usually showered him with gifts every Birthday and Christmas and the fact that she wasn't able to do so this Christmas just reminded him of how fucked up everything was. In any other situation there would be a mounting of gifts waiting for him, no matter what, his mother would make it happen. It's not like he even cared about the fucking gifts, it was just that the reason behind their unmistakable absence was like a punch to the gut. So, he left them there, beautifully wrapped and untouched.

Sometime around 4:30 pm, after waking up from a two hour nap, Draco got up and decided to go and take a nice long hot shower. Mainly to waste away some more of the day, but also because he felt rather disgusting after his impromptu snooze.

As it turned out, a shower was just what he needed. He spent a good half hour cleaning himself from head to toe, using several of his favorite products. Blaise and Theo always laughed at how many different body and hair potions he had, but Draco didn't see anything wrong with taking proper care of one's own self, and why shouldn't he smell great while he's doing it? There was nothing worse than stinky teenage boys. Draco could vouch for that, there were several in his year alone. Thankfully, Draco didn't have to share a dormitory with any of them.  _Vile creatures_. Although, Theo was known to stink the place out now and again, but it was easily fixed with a kick up the arse in the direction of the showers.

Once he'd finished his shower, he stepped out and quickly dried himself with a towel before pulling on a loose pair of grey sleep trousers. It was so freeing not wearing any underwear, he should really do it more often. He decided to forgo a t-shirt as he was massively overheating from his piping hot shower.

He roughly towel dried his hair and then quickly ran a comb though his damp platinum locks as he looked at himself in the mirror for what felt like the first time in weeks. He noticed that his hair had grown a few inches on top and now fell messily across his forehead, just stopping to brush the tops of his eyebrows. The sides were still short and looked neat enough, so he didn't bother himself with a trimming spell. He wouldn't allow it to grow much further though, he couldn't stand long hair. It reminded him of his father and he had plenty of his father's features to be getting on with. All in all, he supposed he didn't look as bad as he thought he would. It was most likely due to his shower, his skin looked as if it was glowing and was flushed a pleasant rosy pink making him look young and full of life. Yet, he couldn't help but notice that his face did look different, he just couldn't figure out why. His eyes were the same ice grey they'd always been and his cheek bones and jawline were as prominent as ever. Perhaps it was his stubble? No, that couldn't be it. He'd been rocking stubble for a while now and it was so fair you could barely see it anyway.

_What was it?_

Draco rested the heel of his palms on the lip of the sink, fully supporting his upper weight, and leaned closer to the mirror. He stared at his face, thoroughly examining it as if that would help him figure out why his face looked so familiar, yet so alien at the same time.

Suddenly, there was a loud bang from inside one of the shower cubicles and, startled, Draco's left hand slipped from beneath him, causing the inside of his forearm to hit the edge of the sink.

"Motherfucker!" he growled, gritting his teeth together in pain. He gazed down at his forearm, seeing nothing, but feeling fire.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck!_

Of course, ordinarily, that wouldn't have hurt. He wasn't a pussy... at least not anymore, but he'd hit it directly where his Dark Mark was situated and fucking hell did it  _hurt!_  It felt like hellfire was literally licking its way up his arm.

Draco grabbed his wand from next to the sink and aimed the tip at his forearm before hesitating...  _Shit_. He was afraid to look at it, he hadn't dared to in weeks. Every morning he would simply reinforce the existing  _Glamour_  Charm and be off on his merry way. The pain had been increasing day by day, and at times was unbearable, but he'd been stupidly ignoring it. On several occasions, he'd even attempted to mask it with pain potions, although sometimes they didn't work that well. He'd known from the feel of it that it must be bad -  _hence the reason he didn't want to look at it_  - but he couldn't do anything about it, so what was the point in worrying himself sick? He had enough going on in his life without panicking that his arm was about to fall off at any minute. Instead, he'd just tried to pretend that everything was fine and hoped that it would eventually sort itself out. Clearly, that wasn't working out so well.

Steeling himself, Draco hastily spelled away the  _Glamour_  Charm and gasped at the hideous sight that met his eyes.

" _Oh fuck_ ," he breathed, staring at his arm in disgusted horror.

What a mess, what an absolute fucking  _mess_.

It was inflamed, bloodied and weeping - way worse than it had been a few weeks ago. His whole forearm was bruised in alarming shades of purple and blue, it looked as though someone had decided to take their frustrations out on his arm with a large blunt object. Despite all this, the Dark Mark was there, large and unmistakable, in the center of all the devastation. He had been joking before about his arm falling off, but looking at it now it looked as though it could be a possibility. It was bad and was clearly getting worse. What the fuck was he going to do? He couldn't go to the hospital wing and ask Madam Pomfrey to heal it for him.

Draco dropped his wand into the sink and began to yank open the long row of cupboards, one by one, searching for anything that might help. He found a bottle of pain potion and a pot of salve used for minor cuts and bruises.

He pulled the stopper out of the pain potion with his teeth and spat it out across the room. It hit one of the counters and bounced off to roll across the tiled floor and into one of the shower cubicles. He swiftly knocked the potion back in one, draining every last drop, not bothering to read the label, which said;  ** _Warning, do not exceed 5ml in a 24 hour period._**

Draco dropped the empty bottle into the bin and opened the jar of salve. Thankfully, it was the odorless kind, so Draco's nostrils wouldn't assaulted in the process. It burned as he smeared the thick jelly-like substance all over his arm, rubbing it gently into his tender skin and adding extra where needed.

Once he was finished, he inspected his work. Draco could see some of the bruising disappearing before his eyes, but he could also see new bruises popping up to replace them.  _What the fuck?_  He frowned deeply. He'd never seen anything like it. It must be the Dark Magic that was causing it. The bleeding and weeping had mostly stopped though, so that was something, but the skin hadn't healed like it was supposed to. He couldn't complain though because his arm did feel better, the pain was nowhere near as bad as it had been, although he assumed that was down to the potion, not the salve.

Grabbing his wand he cast a swift  _Glamour_  charm and watched as his arm turn back to  _"normal"_. He tried not to think about the fact that he'd had to cast it all the way up to his bicep to hide the bruising that seemed to be spreading at an alarming rate. He would have to keep an eye on it from now on and if it came to it, he would have to tell Snape. He didn't relish the idea, but he had no one else. Snape was smart, he should be able to stop whatever was happening to him.  _Hopefully._

Draco left the bathroom and drifted his way up the stairs to the common room, at least it felt like he drifted. Clearly the pain potion was kicking in, and if he was being honest, it felt  _really fucking good_.

"Mr Malfoy?" came a concerned, yet austere tone.

Draco froze mid-step and turned toward the sound of the voice. "McGonagall?" he said, surprise coloring his tone. "I mean,  _Professor_."

_What the hell was she doing here?_

They stared at each other for several uncomfortable seconds, at least Draco was uncomfortable, McGonagall looked as severe as ever. He tried not to think about the fact that he was half naked and not wearing any underwear.  _Fuck_. Could she tell? The trousers were very thin and Draco was sure that if she cared to look she would most definitely see the outline of his flaccid cock.

But of course she wasn't looking at his cock. This was McGonagall, not Pansy bloody Parkinson.

"Are you alright, Mr Malfoy?" she asked, eyes narrowed in a speculative manner. "I came as soon as I received your note."

"My note?" Draco asked, a frown wrinkling the space between his eyebrows. "What note?"

McGonagall sighed and tilted her head to the side. "Do you mean to say that you  _didn't_  send me a note to say you were sick, Mr Malfoy?"

"No," Draco said slowly, cracking his knuckles in a very uncharacteristic fashion. He felt unusually awkward standing there in front of McGonagall virtually undressed, he didn't have the faintest idea what to do with his hands. More importantly though, who the fuck would send her a note pretending to be him?... Christ, it must have been Blaise,  _the pillock_. He was probably hoping that Draco was making good use of the empty common room and tugging himself off all over the place.

McGonagall's lips thinned. She didn't look pleased about being misled. "I had my suspicions. It did seem very out of character for you, but I couldn't very well ignore it in case you had been ill. Do you have any idea who could have sent it?" she asked, tone stern.

_Yes. Blaise - gobshite - Zabini._

Draco shook his head. "Sorry, Professor. I have no idea."

She tutted and looked towards the heavens. "Well, seeing as you're alright, I shall leave you to it. I take it you're not joining us for Christmas dinner?" she pursed her lips, eyebrows raised.

"No," Draco smiled tightly. "I'm not really feeling up to it."

"Suit yourself. I will have the House-elves send you something down," she told him as she turned to walk away. She paused and gazed at the unopened presents under the Christmas tree, her forehead wrinkling slightly. Draco's shoulders stiffened in response, he was positive that she was about to comment on them and was ready to tell her to mind her own sodding business - so what if she was a Professor? That didn't give her the right to be a nosy cow - but all she said was. "Merry Christmas, Mr Malfoy."

Draco nodded once, if not a little stiffly. "Merry Christmas, Professor," he responded, his tone more on the cooler side. He waited until the wall sealed itself behind her before he turned to throw himself on one of the couches.

Fucking hell, he needed a drink.

Draco curiously glanced towards the tree and spotted a garishly wrapped present that was conspicuously shaped like a bottle.

_Oh please be something palatable._

Draco rolled sideways off the couch and walked over to snatch the present from under the tree.

He tore off the luminous pink and gold wrapping paper and instantly moaned in deep satisfaction. It was only a bottle of Ogden's finest.  _Thank you, Merlin and whomever had been gracious enough to gift it to him._  He flipped the gift card over and read:

_**Merry fucking Christmas, you miserable bastard. I thought you'd appreciate this.** _

_**Love you with all my heart.** _

_**Blaise x** _

Draco grinned. "Ah, Blaise. It seems you have redeemed yourself," he pulled out the cork and took a long swig as he turned to make his way back to the couch. He and the firewhisky were about to get  _very_  intimate, in the sense that he was about to devour every last drop of it.

He was only about halfway back to the couch, and in the process of taking his second pull from the bottle, when he walked right into something rather solid and decidedly human-like. At least it felt human-like, he couldn't say for sure as whatever it was was thoroughly invisible.

Draco spat the firewhisky out, spraying it impressive lengths across the room. He stumbled backwards and stared at the empty space in front of him. There was nothing there, no slight shift in the air, no glimmer or shine... this wasn't a  _Disillusionment_  Charm. This was something else.

"Who's there? Show yourself!" Draco demanded, his senses tingling into overdrive. He recorked the bottle and placed it on the nearest table, his eyes narrowed dangerously. He could think of only one thing that could render someone so completely invisible, and there was only one person in the entire Wizarding World who had one.

Draco gritted his teeth together  _hard_.

If Potter revealed himself now, he would kill him. He would take his bare hands and strangle the life right out of the insufferable prick.

"I'm warning you, if you don't show yourself, right -" Draco broke off, his mouth falling open.

_What the fuck?_

Draco stared in shock as a head full of wild curls materialized in front of him.

"Hermione? What the fuck are you doing here?" he commanded more harshly than he'd meant to. But fuck, what was she doing here?... How?...  _Why?_

Hermione bit her bottom lip, looking nervous as hell. "Well," she began taking a deep calming breath as she looked anywhere except at Draco. "I was at the burrow with... you know,  _everyone_. We were having the most magical day," she paused to wring her hands, her expression one of great distress. "My parents were there, we'd just finished eating dinner and we had all moved to congregate in the living room to listen to the wireless, drink butterbeers and sing some carols -  _terribly_ , I might add - when I suddenly realized... I didn't want to be there," she glanced up, fixing Draco with a gaze that seemed to suck all the air out of the room.

Draco swallowed, staring at her intently as he waited for her to continue. His mind racing and his heart thudding forcefully in his chest.

"On paper, it was the perfect Christmas Day. I was surrounded by the people I love, my belly was full and there was laughter all around me, but -" she stepped towards him, reaching her hand out and placing it on his bare chest, "- all I could seem to think about was you, and that you were here,  _alone_. No one should be alone at Christmas," she said softly, brushing her fingers along his collarbone and relishing in his slight shudder.

Draco stood rooted to the spot, trying to absorb everything she'd just said, whilst also trying to figure out what the hell it all meant. As far as he could gather, she'd left her family and friends, on Christmas Day, so that she could be with  _him_. Draco was sure that's what she'd just said, but how could that be? Why would she do that, for  _him_. Was he tripping? Had he consumed too much of that pain potion? Perhaps she wasn't even here at all and he was simply hallucinating?

"Aren't you happy that I came?" she asked after a full minute of silence had passed by without Draco so much as uttering a sound. She dropped her hand to her side and glanced away from him. "I probably should have let you know first, but I wanted to surprise you," she shook her head slightly and it looked to Draco as if she was second-guessing her decision to come.

"Hermione," he gripped her chin in his hand, forcing her to look at him. "I'm happy," he told her firmly. "Of course I am. I just..." he trailed off, stroking her cheek with his thumb as his eyes roamed her flushed face. She was here. She was really here. This was  _crazy_. "... I don't understand. Why would you leave your family and friends to come and see  _me_?"

Hermione blinked up at him, her eyes bright. She looked terrified. "I don't know," she whispered, the sound coming out breathless and a little choppy. She did know. She just didn't want to tell him... or perhaps she didn't want to admit the truth to herself. Either way Draco wasn't going to push it.

Draco brought his other hand up so that he was cupping each side of her face. Deep down, beneath all the denial and confusion, he knew the reason she was here wasn't good. No. It was fucking  _devastating_ , but that didn't stop the intense warmth from spreading through him and making him feel a certain kind of way. He was completely torn. Part of him wanted to tell her to go,  _leave!_  Never speak to him again. And another part of him wanted to pull her close and squeeze her so fucking tight that she couldn't breathe. They were idiots. Both of them were absolute fucking idiots.

Draco didn't tell her to leave, and he didn't squeeze the air out of her either. What he did was lower his head and kiss her. He kissed her deeply, thoroughly, until she melted against him like hot wax.

Hermione hummed the sound deep and reverberant. "God, I've missed this," she quietly confessed against his lips, her hands running over every inch of exposed skin - his arms, his chest, his abs.

Draco felt her hand inching lower and groaned when she suddenly gripped his cock through his trousers. They were so thin it almost felt like there was nothing between them. It felt incredible. He hadn't had any pleasure since the last time they'd been together, not wanting the dissatisfaction of touching himself. What was the point? It was nothing compared to how it felt being buried deep inside her.

Draco slipped his hands into the back pockets of her jeans and pulled her flush against him. He hadn't realized it with everything that had been going on, but he'd missed this too. This past week and a half, Hermione had been in his thoughts, lingering there in the background, it was just that the cabinet had been a more dominating presence. Now that she was here though, Draco couldn't think of anything except how much he wanted to  _consume_  her, in every sense of the word.

He began to remove her clothes, swiftly and efficiently, until she was standing in front of him gloriously naked. He ran his eyes up the length of her legs, stopping to gaze at her glistening lips, before continuing up her torso, over a flat, yet soft, stomach and beautifully rounded breasts that fit in his hands so perfectly it was as if they were made just for him.

Draco saw it then, the white gold necklace and emerald pendant that rested snugly below the hollow of her throat. His eyes flicked up to hers and she smiled, bringing her hand up to finger it lovingly. It looked absolutely stunning on her, but of course, he'd known all along that it would.

She opened her mouth to say something, probably thank him, but Draco grabbed her and spun her around, lowering her onto the rug in front of the fire.

He shoved his trousers down his thighs and kicked them the rest of the way off as he entered her in one fluid motion, a guttural groan spilling from his parted lips. There was nothing gentle in his movements, he drove his cock into her again and again, his thrusts deep and powerful. He trailed his right hand along her thigh and gripped it firmly as he hoisted her leg up and over his shoulder.

Hermione cried out, throwing her head back, and digging her nails into his broad shoulders. "Draco," she moaned brokenly. "Oh God,  _Draco_."

Draco looked down at her face, cataloging all the different emotions that flitted across it, loving the way her mouth fell open whenever he hit that sweet spot. She was beautiful, there was no denying it and when her eyes suddenly opened and their gazes met - cinnamon to silver - Draco found himself trapped, unable to look away.

"Draco," Hermione breathed, brows drawing together. She brought her hand up to cup one side of his face, her eyes wide and troubled. "I think I l-"

Draco slammed his lips against hers and pounded into her hard, his hips pumping so savagely, so unforgivingly, that he was sure Hermione had forgotten her own name. He didn't stop his punishing rhythm until she was shaking and screaming his name in ecstasy, her orgasm tearing through her in huge devastating waves.

Draco gasped at the feel of her walls tightening around him and let out a deep panting groan as he came forcibly inside her. It felt amazing, like he was marking her.  _His_. And his alone.

After a minute, he pulled out of her and rolled to the side, tugging her with him so that she half lay on top of him, her leg over one of his thighs. He wrapped his right arm around her tightly, whilst he trailed his left hand up and down the length of her arm. He'd never done this with her before. He'd never done this with  _anyone_  before. Draco wasn't one to cuddle, or be overly affectionate, but in this instant he wanted to be. It was Christmas. Hermione had left her family and friends and come all this way just to be with him. The least he could do was show her how grateful he was, because he was grateful, very much so. He wouldn't say it out loud, but he hoped this was enough.

Hermione snuggled into him, her body molding against his perfectly. She kissed his chest and drew little patterns on it with her index finger. "That was so much better than staying at the burrow," she smirked, glancing up at him.

Draco smirked back at her. "I take it Potter's and Weasley's singing doesn't do it for you?" he asked drily.

Hermione scrunched up her face and laughed. "Absolutely not! They're bloody  _awful._  They sound like dying cats. I'm glad I got away when I did."

Draco narrowed his eyes slightly in thought. "Speaking of, how did you get away? It can't have been easy, what with Potter and his meddling tendencies... wait a minute," Draco bolted upright, jostling Hermione in the process. "What about the map? I'm sure Potter has been scouring it like a fiend watching my every move.  _Nosy fucking twat._  What if he sees us?"

"Easy tiger," Hermione laughed, placing a calming hand on his shoulder as she pushed him back down again. "Did you forget who I am?" she asked, lifting her leg to straddle him.

Draco let out a soft grunt as his cock slid between her wet folds and became instantly hard again. "No. I know exactly who you are," he answered thickly, thoroughly distracted, his hands running up and down the length of her smooth thighs. He took in the sight of her - legs spread wide astride his hips, his cock pressed firmly along her center.

"Then you're well aware that I'm considered to be the smartest Witch of our age? And would the smartest Witch not think of every possible outcome before doing something as risky as sneaking into Hogwarts castle to rendezvous with the prince of Slytherin?" she asked him, a smug smirk firmly in place.

"You're not that smart," Draco told her plainly, gripping her arse cheeks in both hands and squeezing. "So, all your self-righteous talk has done absolutely nothing to ease my concerns."

"Excuse me?" she pinched his left nipple, eliciting a sharp hiss from between his teeth. "What do you mean I'm not  _that_  smart?"

"Well, you're shagging me," he raised his brows at her, knowing that he had her cornered. It was a solid argument. "I'd say that's far from smart, in fact, it's pretty fucking stupid if you ask me."

"That's not... Well... maybe a  _little_... but you're involved in this too, so that makes you stupid as well," she crossed her arms and scowled down at him.

Draco grinned, showing her his perfect set of pearly whites. "I never said I wasn't stupid. I know I am. But this isn't about me, I'm not the one with my nose in the air claiming otherwise," he brought his hands up to shield his head as Hermione took a swipe at him. Her breasts jumped and jiggled enticingly with her movements and Draco found his hands instantly gravitating towards them.

"Oh,  _yeah_ ," she began sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "You seem  _really_  concerned right now," she looked down at his hands that were happily fondling her breasts.

He shrugged. "What can I say, you're an  _excellent_  distraction," he lifted his head and sucked her nipple into his mouth, ripping a sharp cry from her lips.

"Harry's with Ginny tonight," Hermione gasped as Draco teeth scrape against her nipple. "Trust me, he will not be looking at the map. I'm quite certain that Ginny will be keeping him  _very_  busy for most of the night."

Draco groaned and fell back on the rug, flinging his arm over his face dramatically. "Fucking hell, I did not need that imagery in my mind," he complained, scrunching up his face in disgust. "Was it absolutely necessary to impart that bit of information to me? You could have just lied and said something else."

Hermione giggled. "No! It's their first time," she told him. "Harry's been so wrapped up in her all day, he didn't even notice when I snatched his cloak right from under his nose."

"Ew. I really don't want to hear about Potter being wrapped up in anyone, especially Weaslette," he made a gagging noise. "Oh God, I actually think I might throw up."

"Stop it," Hermione chastised. "There's nothing wrong with Ginny, or Harry, for that matter."

Draco looked up at her and rolled his eyes. Here she was defending her friends again. Was it strange that that was one of the things he admired most about her? That she was so unbelievably loyal and true to those she was close to. It seemed that Potter and Weasley could do no wrong in her eyes - not long term anyway. Perhaps Draco was just hoping that she'd extend the same courtesy to him when he finally told her the truth... Fucking hell, he was really grasping at straws if he was entertaining the idea that she would put him in the same category as those two pricks. It was never going to happen. What he'd done this past year was utterly unforgivable.

"What's wrong?" she asked, reaching out to smooth away the line between his brows.

"Nothing," he lied, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "So, tell me, how did you get onto the grounds?" he asked curiously, swiftly changing the subject. "I know Flitwick warded the gates closed after everyone left."

"Oh, I had a little help from a friend," she let loose a secret smile, her eyes sparkling mischievously.

Draco squinted up at her dubiously. "What friend?" he asked, watching her smile grow more sly by the second. She looked terribly Slytherin-esque. He kind of liked it. "Good grief, please don't tell me you've befriended a House-elf?" he let out a deep, rather impatient, sigh.

Hermione tutted. "What's wrong with befriending a House-elf?"

Draco wrinkled his nose. "What's wrong with it?" he asked incredulously. "What's  _right_  with it?" he countered, giving her a deeply concerned look. Surely she wasn't being serious?

"Don't be ridiculous! House-elves make lovely companions..." she paused, considering her words, "... at least they do when they aren't self-harming -"

" _Christ_ , woman," he began, incensed. "They self-harm because you're forcing them to do something they aren't programmed to do! They are House-elves, they are made for servitude, not  _friendship_."

Hermione shot him a dangerous look, her hands coming up to find her hips in an unequivocally disciplinary fashion.  _Oh, here we go_. He was about to get his arse handed to him on a plate. Draco could appreciate the image she was trying to portray. She wanted to intimidate him, show him she meant business, but that was kind of hard to achieve when you were butt-arse naked. "Programmed?!" she screeched in tones far too high for Draco's poor ears. "They are living souls, you  _arsehole_ , not machinery! Besides, they are like that because of bigoted pure-blood supremacists! The fact that enslavement still exists is simply inconceivable!"

"Arsehole? Bigoted pure-blood supremacists? Wow, tell me how you really feel?" Draco remarked sarcastically.

"I am!" she told him rather bluntly as she crossed her arms under her breasts.  _"Git."_

Draco smirked, his eyes dropping to ogle them. "By all means, keep yelling at me and calling me names, it's only turning me on more," he told her, grinding his cock up against her heat to prove his point.

Hermione gasped, her cheeks flushing a delicious shade of pink. " _Oh_..." she closed her eyes, reveling in the feel of his cock sliding between her folds. After several agonizing moments, Draco stopped and she blinked her eyes open, clearing her throat. "We seem to have gotten side-tracked," she muttered. "Now, where was I again?... Ah yes, how I made it onto the grounds. It wasn't a House-elf that let me through the gates - although I do have several House-elves that I'm proud to call friends, and I'm sure would have happily obliged in helping me if I'd been able to get hold of them," she glared at him, daring him to say one word on the matter.

Draco pressed his lips together. Should he tell her that she was a deluded fool? Or just let her keep dreaming? If somehow she had been able to get hold of a House-elf and asked them to open the gates, they most certainly wouldn't have done it without getting either Dumbledore's or McGonagall's permission first, but he wisely decided not to voice that particular notion out loud. Instead he just nodded. "Of course. So, if it wasn't one of your little House-elf friends, who was it?" he asked indulgently, eyebrow raised in question.

"It was Hagrid," Hermione grinned, seemingly happy now. Her previous vexation apparently forgotten.

"The half-breed?" Draco deadpanned. My, but she had questionable friends -  _Potter, Weasley, House-elves and part giants?_

Hermione threw him a withering look.

"I was just clarifying," he held up his hands in defence. "Carry on."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I passed through his fireplace. He's not supposed to use magic, so he couldn't lift the wards on the gate."

"Interesting," Draco hummed. "And wasn't he at all curious as to why you needed to sneak into the Castle on Christmas Day?" If Draco was in the half-breeds position he would have wanted to know, demanded it even.

"I said I needed a book from the Library and that it was vitally important that I got it right away," Hermione answered looking pleased with herself.

Draco on the other hand looked thoroughly unimpressed. "Are you're telling me that pathetic excuse actually worked?"

" _Yes_ , like a charm," she batted her eyelashes. "I mean, it is me we're talking about. It's definitely something I would do. In fact, I think I might pop in there on my way out. There was a book I wanted to grab before I left, but I didn't have time."

Draco chuckled. Why wasn't he surprised that she wanted to pay the Library a visit before she left? She had literally only been gone from the castle for a week and would be returning next week. She was ridiculous. "Alright bookworm, but that doesn't explain how you got into the Slytherin common room... wait a minute, that was  _you_  who sent the note to McGonagall!" he gazed at Hermione in astonishment. Admittedly, he would have caught on a lot sooner, but with the shock of her suddenly appearing out of nowhere and their mind-blowing romp on the rug, he'd quickly forgotten that McGonagall had paid him a visit. Also, let's be honest, it was so unlike her. "I thought it was Blaise being a dick," he told her. "I can't believe you willing hoodwinked a professor," he said this the with utmost respect.

"Guilty," Hermione confessed, holding her hand up.

"Yes, you are," he growled lowly. "Naughty little Witch."

"Don't you mean  _clever_  little Witch," she amended, flicking her hair over her shoulder in a smug fashion.

Draco wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her down into a kiss. They kissed slowly and sensually for several moments before the sound of a loud  _pop_  startled them apart.

"What the hell was that?" Hermione hissed, her heart thundering in her chest.

Draco glanced over her shoulder and then sighed. "That was my dinner being delivered."

Hermione turned around, her eyes landing on the table, which was now filled with a mounting of food. "Oh," she muttered, breathing a sigh of relief as she moved to stand up.

Draco grabbed her hand and tugged her back down. "Where do you think you're going?" he demanded, eyes boring into hers.

She smiled, reaching her arm out to run a hand through his hair. "You should eat," she told him.

"I was just about to," he responded cheekily, licking his lips as he ran his eyes over her luscious curves.

"I mean you should eat  _food_ ," she emphasized, smirking at the frown he bestowed on her. "We have plenty of time for  _that._  Now come on," she stood up, pulling him along with her.

"Fine," he sighed in acquiescence. "But you can't get dressed. You have to stay like this all night," he pressed the long line of his body against her back, his arms snaking around her middle as he nuzzled is face into her hair and breathed in deeply.

Hermione leaned back into him and rested her head on his shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world. She tilted her head to the side slightly, giving him better access to her neck.

Draco instantly lowered his head, his mouth finding her pulse point and sucking firmly.

She moaned throatily, the sound vibrating against his lips in the most delicious way.

Gently, Draco's right hand began to creep down her stomach, his destination clear, when Hermione suddenly grabbed it, tutting disapprovingly. "Eat first," she commanded. "If you can't behave yourself I'll have to put my clothes back on."

"Don't you dare," he husked, his breath fanning across her skin and causing goosebumps to appear in its wake.

"Be a good boy then and do as you're told," she said, pushing away from him.

Draco pulled her back against him in one swift motion. "What's the point in being good when you can be bad?" he quipped, hand creeping south again.

" _Draco,_ " she warned her tone deep with authority.

Draco growled. " _Tease,_ " he hissed, the sound accusatory, but in truth he loved it when she got all bossy on him. Ha, who would have fucking thought? "Just you wait till' later."

Hermione smirked as he let go of her and they made their way over to the table.

Draco sat down first, grabbed the bowl of roast potatoes, and began eating them with his fingers. He looked completely cool and relaxed, despite his nakedness. "Are you going to eat something?" he asked.

"No way. I've eaten far too much today already." One corner of her mouth lifted as she watched him make his way through the potatoes. "Are you going to have anything else with those?" she asked, thoroughly amused. "Beef? Carrots? Some gravy perhaps?"

"Nope," he answered, making a popping sound with his lips. "I  _love_  roast potatoes."

"I can see that," she giggled.

"What's your favorite part of Christmas dinner?" he asked, picking up another potato and eating it.

"Sprouts."

" _Sprouts?_ " he exclaimed, wrinkling his forehead in disgust. "What is wrong with you?"

"They are very underrated," she told him primly, crossing her legs at the knee. Draco noticed that she seemed a little uncomfortable sitting there naked, but he refrained from asking her if she would like a blanket. He figured it would do her some good. She needed to relax more, learn to be more comfortable in her own skin. "Try one."

"No, thanks. I know exactly what they taste like and I'd rather not assault my taste buds with their foulness," He placed the bowl of potatoes back on the table and reached for the nearly forgotten bottle of firewhisky. "Would you like some?"

Hermione deliberated for a few seconds before answering. "Sure," she shrugged, a small smile gracing her lips. "It is Christmas after all. Thank you," she said as Draco handed her a glass of the smoking amber liquid.

Draco watched her closely as she took a tentative sip.

Hermione hummed, sounding pleasantly surprised. "Wow, it's so smooth. Nothing like the last firewhisky I tried," she grimaced at the memory.

Draco smiled crookedly. "That's because it's Ogden's, the finest firewhisky in Britain. You can't get much better than this."

Hermione nodded, taking another sip. "Was it a gift?" she asked in an almost breezy sort of manner. The casual question would have worked if not for the way her eyes bore into his.

Draco stiffened, not liking the direction their conversation was going. She had obviously seen his unopened presents under the tree and was surely wondering why he hadn't opened them. "Yes," he answered, knocking the rest of his firewhisky back in one before placing his glass down and refilling it. "It was from Blaise. Apparently he's not as useless as I've always believed him to be. This was an exceptional gift."

"Oh, you don't mean that," she tutted, sliding her drink onto the table. "You and Blaise seem really close. You wouldn't keep him around if that was how you really felt about him."

Draco eyed her studiously. "You're right. I don't mean it," he began, casually stretching his legs out in front of him. Hermione's eyes dropped to run a slow sensual path from his feet to his cock, where they froze, her eyes drinking in the glorious sight of him. "Blaise is one of very few people I trust. I mean, he kept his trap shut after you told him about us. That's got to count for something."

Hermione's eyes flashed up to his, a guilty expression clouding her features. "So, he's already told you?" she asked sheepishly.

"He has," Draco confirmed, gazing at her, his face blank of all emotion.

She ducked her head and brought her hands up to cover her breasts. Draco frowned at the action, but didn't say anything. "Are you angry?" she asked, her eyes coming back up to meet his.

Draco narrowed his eyes slightly and tilted his head to the side. "Do I look angry?" he asked, effectively turning her question back on her.

"It's hard to tell, your expression rarely changes," she replied honestly, her hands fidgeting in her lap.

One of Draco's eyebrows raised up a notch. "Is that so. Well, do you think I should be angry?"

"Yes," Hermione sighed, looking towards the ceiling and shaking her head. "I'm an idiot. I shouldn't have approached him. I wasn't thinking clearly,  _obviously_."

"That doesn't sound like you," he commented, leaning across the table to refill her glass. "You're Hermione Granger - brightest Witch of our age. I thought you always thought clearly and rationally."

"I do," she confirmed, her eyes hardening. " _Except_  when it comes to you. All logic and reason seems to swiftly leave me... it's -" she broke off and noticeably swallowed.

"What?" Draco pushed, leaning forward in his chair, his tone low.

Hermione stared at him her eyes just that little bit too wide. He could tell that she wanted to say something, whatever it was was on the tip of her tongue, but she wouldn't,  _of course she wouldn't_ , because like him she was a pretender. She smiled suddenly and straightened in her seat. "It's  _frustrating_ , that's what it is," she attempted to laugh it off, but she wasn't kidding either of them.

Draco slowly released the breath he'd been holding and sat back in his chair, his posture relaxing as he grabbed his glass and took a long drink. "Well, I'm not angry. I would have sent you a note back, but Snape was being a nosy sod. I couldn't get a minute to myself to compile a response."

Hermione smiled appreciatively. "Still, I shouldn't have lost my mind the way I did. It won't happen again, I promise," she picked up her glass and took a deep swig. "So, why were you in Snape's office?" she asked curiously. "Is everything alright? I thought it might have been about your dad."

Draco stared at her, his jaw working. He wanted to tell her, he really did, but he also didn't want to ruin the night with talk of his father's near demise.

"We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," Hermione offered softly, after long moments of silence. "Everything is OK though, isn't it?" her brow puckered in concern.

_No. It's not. Everything is far from OK._

Draco was desperate to tell her the truth about what was going on - the whole truth. It was eating him up inside and quite frankly he was sick and tired of the constant lies, it was exhausting. But tonight wasn't the night, he wanted to enjoy what time he had left with her before she left to go back home. He didn't want to spoil it by revealing all the lies he'd told over the last few months. He could tell her everything after Christmas break. It was the right thing to do. It was the  _kind_  thing to do. "Everything's fine," he lied, his lips lifting into an easy smile.

Hermione gazed at him, her eyes sharp and intense. It was almost like she didn't believe him. "If everything's fine, then why haven't you opened your Christmas presents yet?" she asked, brows drawn together.

Christ. Draco thought he'd gotten away with that. "No reason," he shrugged, the epitome of cool indifference. "I simply haven't gotten around to it. You can open them for me if you like?" he smirked.

Although he looked calm and collected on the outside, on the inside he was praying fervently that she'd just drop it.

She gave him a peculiar glance as she brought her hand to her glass, running her middle finger around the rim. "They're your presents," she told him, a smile tugging at her lips. "You should open them. I'll watch and make you feel sickeningly awkward."

"Watch all you like, I never feel awkward," he quipped.

Hermione giggled. "Why doesn't that surprise me?"

Draco bit his bottom lip and glanced down at her necklace, the emerald diamond catching his eye in the firelight.

Hermione's hand came up and she stroked the pendant delicately, her chest rising as she sucked in a deep breath and then released it. "Thank you for the necklace," she breathed. "I absolutely love it. It's the most beautiful gift I've ever received."

Draco blinked at her, his hand tightening around his glass. "You're welcome. I'm glad you like it."

Hermione went silent, her eyes fixated on the lake outside the large windows as her fingers continued to rub the emerald diamond almost reverently.

Draco gazed at her face, his silver eyes sweeping over freckles and a cute button nose. He was glad that he went against his better judgement and bought her the necklace. He wasn't going to at first, he had several other present in mind - all relating to books or writing equipment - but his mind kept going back to the necklace. He worried that she would think it was too extravagant, and perhaps she did think that, but she also said she loved it. So that was enough for him.

"What does it mean when it pulses?" she asked minutes later, her tone low and a little uncertain. Draco got the feeling that she'd been debating about whether to mention it or not, but in the end couldn't help her curiosity. "I haven't yet had a chance to read through the booklet that came with it," she explained.

Draco stared at her, his heart picking up a few notches. "It pulses?" he queried, popping another roast potato into his mouth. "Strange."

"Yes," she answered, eyes flicking towards him in confusion. "You mean, you didn't know?"

He shook his head nonchalantly. "I had no idea."

"Huh," Hermione sat back in her chair, gripping the pendant in her hand now.

Draco could literally hear her brain working in overdrive trying to figure out what it could possibly mean. He wanted to ask her  _when_   _exactly_  it had pulsed. Was it pulsing while she was at Weasley's house? Or was it pulsing right now? He knew that wasn't fair though, not when she didn't know the reason it was doing it. And, actually, he wasn't sure it was wise for him to know. "Do you want a refill?" he asked, holding up the half empty bottle of firewhisky, hoping to redirect the conversation.

Hermione dropped her hand from her necklace. "Oh, go on then," she grinned. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to get me drunk, Mr Malfoy."

"Well, Miss Granger..." he began in a low husk. "You would be absolutely correct." Draco's smile was slow and positively devilish.

The rest of the night went by in blur of laughter and joyous chatter. They finished off the entire bottle of firewhisky and even started on a second bottle that Draco managed to pilfer from Theo's secret stash. They talked for hours about their lives growing up - obviously straying from any touchy subjects - and about little things like, places in the world they'd visited, places they want to visit, their favorite colours, their favorite foods, and so on. There was never a lull in the conversation and as the night went on, Draco found himself becoming more and more relaxed, something he hadn't managed to do in a very long time. Part of it was due to the firewhisky, but mostly it was the company.

At some point in the early hours of the morning, Hermione persuaded Draco to open his presents and, to his utter surprise, he found that there was one buried in there from Hermione - a stunning set of white gold cufflinks engraved with his initials.

They found themselves rolling around on the rug more times than they could count, each time ending with Draco's name falling from Hermione's lips in the most come-inducing fashion.

When Hermione eventually fell asleep at some time around 5:30 in the morning, Draco found himself thinking back on the day and despite the dismal start, he thought that it had been one of the best Christmases he'd ever had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for being so patient <3\. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. The part you've all been waiting for - or perhaps dreading? haha! - is next chapter! Argh! It's finally happening and I'm kind of scared. Stay tuned!
> 
> Massive thanks to Black_Osmosis who gave this a read whilst away on holiday, you truly are amazing! <3
> 
> Also, a massive fuck you! to 'word' for screwing up my formatting, which took me an hour and half to fix. You suck!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains graphic scenes, please be cautious if you are easily triggered by gore and implied death. I don't want to upset anyone.

Hermione walked through the large entrance hall doors, buzzing with a jittery sort of nervous excitement that made her whole body feel as though it was humming with electricity.

The past week had been torturous to say the least. It had dragged so much that it felt as if it had been years instead of a mere 7 days. And the train ride had almost been unbearable, but she didn't want to think about that right now because she was here,  _finally_.

She reached up to adjust the bag on her shoulder, wincing as it pinched her skin - that's what she got for trying to carry too many books at once, she really should have cast a  _feather-light_  Charm before leaving the carriage.

There was noise all around her, the entrance hall was packed to the rafters with students of all ages greeting each other warmly and indulging in fanciful stories of their Christmas break. Hermione could barely remember most of hers, the week before Christmas day had been awash with thoughts of Draco being alone in the castle. She had worried about him endlessly, wondering if he was sad that he wasn't going home, and agonized over what had happened in Snape's office the day before she'd left, even though she had promised herself she wouldn't. It seemed that when it came to Draco she had no control over her emotions and thoughts, and no matter how much she tried to rationalize with herself -  _he's a big boy, he can look after himself, he'll be fine -_  it didn't work. It was a useless, time consuming exercise that ended with no relief and within an hour she would be doing it all again. It was  _exhausting_ , which is why she made the decision to go to him on Christmas day - to hell with the consequences! And thank god she did, because she thinks it might have been the best decision she'd ever made in her life thus far.

Her lips tugged up into a smile as she remembered their time together. It was absolutely magical. She thought about their bodies, which had been entwined together for most of the night, and their hours of conversation that never waned or got uncomfortable. She learned more about Draco in that one night than she ever had in the whole time she'd known him. She detested leaving him on Boxing Day, but she had no choice. She had already been gone too long and hadn't meant to stay the night.

Mrs Weasley had been awake when she'd walked through the kitchen door of the Burrow the next morning. Hermione had jumped in fright, not expecting anyone to be up yet. Thankfully she managed to sputter out a response about needing some fresh air when asked why on earth she was outside at such an ungodly hour, especially when it was freezing cold. None of the others had even noticed her absence. As predicted, Harry had been so engrossed in all things Ginny he'd barely known which way was up, and Ron, although much better than he was, still tired easily and had gone to bed early.

Overall, Hermione had been very lucky indeed, it could have easily gone tits up.

Unfortunately, that's where her luck ended, and she wasn't entirely surprised that it did. She had gotten away with far too much as of late, and she knew it was bound to catch up to her eventually.

Although Harry and Ron hadn't caught her sneaking off on Christmas Day, they had picked up on her  _"weird behavior",_ as they put it, in the week following. It was strange because Hermione felt as if she had been just as  _"weird"_  the week prior, only for different reasons. But clearly Harry and Ron hadn't noticed anything untoward then. She'll admit that after her night with Draco she had been experiencing an unhealthy amount of daydreams and flashbacks, especially at the most inconvenient and awkward times, which was probably how her friends picked up on her  _"weirdness"_. Harry and Ron began to persistently ask -

_'What's wrong?'_

_'What are you thinking about?'_

_'Something's wrong, just tell us, what is it?'_

_'Are you ill?'_

_'Has something happened?'_

Then to each other when they thought she wasn't listening -

_'Why is she acting so weird?'_

_'What could it be about?'_

_'Do you know something?'_

_'Does Ginny know anything?'_

As a result she hadn't been able to have a spare minute to herself, except when she went to the bathroom. Other than that someone was always there, right next to her, encroaching on her personal space. It was extremely frustrating. All she'd wanted to do for the past week was read the booklet that came with her necklace. Of course she couldn't read it in the open, it was too risky, no one knew about her lavish gift from Draco and that is how she wanted it to remain. She had been careful to hide it beneath her clothing, sad though that was, anything that beautiful should be on display for all to see, but it wasn't worth the trouble it would most definitely cause. If any of her family and friends saw it, they would surely demand to know where she'd gotten it from, because they were all well aware that no one in her close circle could afford something so extravagant, and it would invoke endless questions that she simply couldn't answer.

It was a stunning necklace. Hermione found herself disappearing to the bathroom just so she could stare at it in the mirror. The diamond was such an unusual shade of green, it almost looked alive, and in certain light Hermione was almost sure that it was. It was utterly mesmerizing.

She was eager to know what the pulsing meant, but with Harry, Ron and Ginny breathing down her neck she hadn't had a chance to read up on it. One night she set her alarm for 2:00 am, in hopes that she'd be able to sneak downstairs with the booklet and finally satisfy her deep curiosity, but Ginny woke up and asked her where she was going. Hermione swiftly gave up after that. To be honest, it wasn't a difficult decision. She was aware that if she really wanted to read the booklet, she would have made it happen one way or another. Despite her need to know what had caused her pendant to pulse, she had this little niggly feeling that it wouldn't do her any good to find out. The necklace had been motionless,  _pulseless_ , the whole time she'd been at the burrow. The only time it had pulse was when she was with Draco, it had pulsed the  _entire_  time she was with him, so she knew for a fact the pulsing had something to do with him, and that knowledge scared the shit out of her. When she'd left the castle on Boxing Day, the pulsing had abruptly stopped, and she felt its loss like a stab in the heart with a knife. It made her feel sick - thankfully, only for a short while - and she'd missed the feel of it ever since.

Suddenly, as if reading her thoughts, Hermione's necklace began to pulse beneath her blouse, swiftly tugging her back to the present. It was so sudden and so strong that it literally took her breath away, not unlike the way a cold swimming pool could snatch one's breath straight from their lungs when they plunged into its depths. She gasped harshly and brought her hand up to press the pendant firmly against her chest. She closed her eyes briefly, basking in the exquisite feel of it. Her memory hadn't done it any justice. It was like all her troubles and worries melted away in one fell swoop, making her feel weightless and unbelievably warm and fuzzy.

_Draco was close._

She opened her eyes and eagerly glanced around, a huge smile plastered on her face.

_Where was he?_

"Hermione," Ron groaned stopping next to her, his tone whiny and petulant. "Can you please stop smiling like that? It's extremely unsettling. No one should be this happy to be back at school. What on earth is wrong with you?"

Hermione ignored him, her eyes zeroing in on Draco who was leaning casually against the wall on the opposite side of the entrance hall, looking thoroughly lost in his own thoughts.

Bloody hell, but he looked delicious, like a tasty snack just waiting to be devoured. She smiled dazedly, having the absurd urge to walk over to him and kiss him senseless, right here, right now, in front of all these people. She could almost imagine the taste of him and the feel of his lips brushing against hers in that belly-tightening way that drove her completely crazy with desire...

" _Hello_ , Hermione?" Ron waved a hand in front of her face. "I think we've lost her again," he announced to no one in particular, scratching his head with a bemused frown. "This is getting ridiculous. I think we should take her to see Madam Pomfrey."

"You know, after observing her on the train, I suspect she has a Wrackspurt," Luna offered, her voice gentle and sincere. "She has all the symptoms. Perhaps it's stuck? Try yelling in her ear, it might force it out."

Ron stared at Luna, his face unreadable, blinking a few times before shrugging carelessly. "I suppose it's worth a try," he agreed. " **HERMIONE!** " he bellowed, his mouth so close to her head that his lips were almost touching the shell of her left ear.

Hermione's whole body jerked in response and she flinched back and away from him. "RON!" she screeched, thoroughly incensed. "What the hell are you doing?! Have you lost your mind? You daft pillock!"

"What! You're the one that's acting weird again," he accused, pointing his finger at her like it would aid him in his argument. "I thought maybe you were suffering from a lodged Wracksput, so I was trying to get rid of it!" he told her. " _Sorry_ ," he added, although he didn't sound sorry in the slightest.

"Lodged Wrackspurt?" she scoffed, her face scrunching up. "What in God's name -" she trailed off, glancing at Luna who was smiling at her serenely. "Oh," she muttered in sudden understanding, then turned to throw Ron a narrow-eyed look filled with promises of revenge.

Ron grinned toothily.

 _Arsehole._ However, she was quite pleased to see him back to his usual annoying self, she had been worried over Christmas that the poison had damaged his sense of humor - if you could even call it that. Hermione just found him an utter annoyance.

"Jesus, what is Harry doing?" Ron complained. "I thought he only went back for his Quidditch mag?"

Hermione smirked, knowing full well that he went back for more than his magazine. Hermione suspected he wanted to sample a bit more of Ginny while he still had the chance.

"He'll catch up," Hermione told him. "Come on, let's go and get unpacked. Classes start first thing in the morning and I have a lot of planning to do."

She chanced a quick look back over to where she'd previously seen Draco standing, hoping to get another mouth-watering peek of him, but he was gone. She frowned a little, feeling rather disappointed, as she, Ron and Luna turned towards the Grand Staircase.

"Shit," she cursed, walking head first into what felt like a wall of solid flesh. Her bag slipped from her shoulder and crashed to the floor, spilling its entire contents across the huge flagstones. Reflexively, her hands reached out to steady herself, grasping for purchase on lovely soft fabric.

She looked up, heart thumping wildly in her chest, and was instantly ensnared by a pair of extraordinary, yet utterly familiar, captivating silver eyes.

_Draco._

Hermione wasn't really surprised that it was him she'd ploughed right into, nearly giving herself a concussion. She was more awestruck than anything. She had realized it was Draco even before her eyes had landed on him, not just because her pendant was virtually vibrating against her chest in excitement, but because she could smell his cologne, that unique, dark sensual fragrance that was so undeniably  _him_.

Hermione's hands tightened on his arms, her eyes widening and her mouth falling open in delayed shock.

She was acutely aware of Ron and Luna who were standing slightly behind her on either side, probably wondering why she was standing there like a gawping idiot, clinging to Draco Malfoy's forearms like her life depended on it.

Hermione knew she should let go,  _just let go_ , but she couldn't get her limbs to work. She stared up at him, taking in his predictably inscrutable expression - it wasn't like he could smile at her in front of everyone, especially Ron. Regardless of his expression, she was happy to see him, to be this close to him, which was why she was having a difficult time loosening her grip on his arms. His eyes were the most wonderful storm-grey and his lips were so pink and so  _very_  kissable...  _God_. She felt her head swim alarmingly as all her blood rushed to her head and began to throb in time with her necklace.

"Draco...?" came a deep voice from somewhere behind the blond that was a little too sharp, and was that a hint of apprehension Hermione could detect?

"What?" Draco answered, his voice thick with an unmistakably roughened undertone. He continued to stare at Hermione, his eyes boring into hers with his usual intensity.

"Um, can you just... um... we should really... I think Theo might be…"

"What the fuck are you doing, Hermione?" Ron suddenly demanded, cutting the speaker off – Blaise, Hermione assumed. "Let go of him," he grabbed her wrists and pulled her away.

She almost brought Draco with her, but luckily, at the last minute, remembered how to use her fingers and untangled them from the fabric of his jumper.

"What's going on with you?" Ron muttered harshly in her ear. "Are you alright, do you need to see Madam Pomfrey?..."

"No, I'm  _fine_ ," Hermione brushed him off impatiently and turned back towards Draco who was glaring at Ron murderously.  _Shit_. "Sorry...  _Malfoy_ ," she swallowed, hating that she had to call him by his second name. "I didn't see you there."

She could hear Ron spluttering in indignation somewhere off to her right, most assuredly wondering why she was apologizing to Malfoy of all people, but she ignored him.

Draco's icy grey eyes flicked back towards her, narrowed ever so slightly, and gave her an infinitesimal nod of acceptance. Someone cleared their throat, loudly and dramatically, behind him and Hermione tilted her head to the side to see who it was. It was Blaise,  _of course – just as she'd suspected -_ looking extremely uncomfortable with the situation, and who could blame him? After his last run in with her, he was probably worried that she would slip up in some catastrophic way and reveal her and Draco's relationship.

"Draco," he said, his hand coming up to rest on the blond's shoulder. "We have to go and find Theo."

Hermione gazed at them both, her eyes flicking between them. They were so similar, yet so different at the same time. They were opposites in looks, where Draco was all light, Blaise was all dark - black hair, dark brown eyes, olive skin. They were the same height and build though, and their mannerisms were very similar. Although Hermione didn't know Blaise that well, she got the impression that he was generally a lot more laid-back than Draco.

Hermione secretly smiled at them both, which earned her a tight-lipped stony look from Blaise - he probably wanted to shake her right now - and Draco too by the looks of it. She was glad that Draco had Blaise, he seemed to really care about the blond.

Draco hesitated a moment and then pointed his wand at Hermione's bag and spilled things, which were still on the floor wreaking havoc in the crowed entrance hall - even as she looked someone tripped over one of her larger tombs, cursing as they turned to scowl down at the offending object. At first, Hermione was wondering what on earth Draco was doing, but then all of her books started to glide back inside her bag, neatly and seamlessly, and then it hit her.

Oh God, was he really doing this, in front of all these people? In front of Ron who was still standing next to her, spitting mad?

Once full, her bag came up to hover between them and Draco reached out and grab the strap. "Fucking hell, Granger," he sneered, something she hadn't seen him do in a while - not directed at her anyway. "How many books do you need?" he rolled his eyes in a bored fashion as he slipped the strap over her shoulder. "Oi, Theo!" he suddenly bellowed across the hall. "Come on, Blaise. Let's go."

Hermione braced herself for the heavy weight of her book bag, but as he gently slipped the strap over her shoulder she felt nothing, it was completely weightless and she couldn't articulate exactly how that made her feel... touched, perhaps? But also several other feelings she couldn't decipher at that moment. He'd cast a discreet  _feather-light_  charm on her bag because he knew it was heavy and he cared enough that he wanted to make it easier for her to carry. Her eyes came up and met his as her hand unconsciously reached up to grip the lively pendant hidden beneath her clothes. His eyes flicked down to her hand and one corner of his lips lifted in a barely-there smile. And then he was gone, swallowed up by the crowd.

Hermione stared at the spot where he'd been standing, trying her hardest to calm her erratically beating heart. Why had he just done that? Shouldn't he be keeping up appearances? Why would he risk such a blatant show of compassion towards her in front of all these people? Surely anyone watching was wondering if they were in some kind of time warp because in their reality Draco Malfoy would never pick up Hermione Granger's book bag... Or was she overthinking everything as usual? Perhaps it wasn't such a big deal. She glanced around and noted that no one was even looking in her direction. Jesus Christ, she needed to calm the fuck down. The way she'd been stressing herself out recently wasn't good for her health. Clearly all this with Draco was getting too much. The hiding and the constant lies were really starting to affect her. Everything was so much easier when she hated him... and that was the problem right there. Hermione didn't hate Draco anymore. Not even a little bit. There wasn't a single ounce of hate left. And that's what was making her so anxious. She constantly felt like she was under a microscope and everyone could see how she really felt about him, whether he was in the vicinity or not, which was ridiculous! She didn't have it tattooed on her forehead or anything else equally absurd, so how could anyone possibly know? No one would ever guess what was really going on between them, no matter how nice they were to each other in public. Even she couldn't believe what was happening between them most of the time, and she'd been there, thoroughly involved in all of their shenanigans.

Ron stepped into her line of vision, pulling her from her agitated thoughts, his expression cold and looking more than a little confused. Shit, she'd almost forgotten he was there.

"What the fuck was that?" he asked lowly, eyes narrowed into slits.

"What?" she stuttered, swallowing thickly.

"What the fuck was  _that_ ," he reiterated, jerking his head in the direction Draco had gone.

"Sorry," Hermione tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, trying her best to look puzzled. "I don't know what you mean."

Ron stared at her long and hard, causing the hairs on the back of her neck to stand up. She could literally hear the cogs turning in his brain. It was so strange to see him like this. This was very out of character for Ron, he was usually  _exceptionally_  unobservant, but apparently he wasn't when it came to Draco Malfoy.  _Figures_.

Shit, maybe she hadn't been overthinking it after all.

"What's going on with you two?" he asked, stepping closer to her, his frame towering over her in a threatening manner.

"Excuse me?" she scoffed, taking a step back.

"Oh, come on, Hermione," Ron let out a humorless laugh. "You walk straight into the ferret and he doesn't so much as utter a disgruntled sound, and then proceeds to fix up your bag and hand it to you?" He scrunched up his face at the ludicrousness of it all. "The fact that you aren't saying anything about it is very weird to me. What's going on? Am I missing something here?"

"Yes, your brain!" she snapped. "Didn't you see McGonagall watching us?"

Ron looked taken aback. "Um, no?" he frowned.

Neither did Hermione, because it was a barefaced lie, but Ron didn't need to know that. "Well, she was," Hermione gazed at him unblinkingly. It was actually quite frightening how easily she had adapted to lying. She hardly felt any remorse either. She'd recently realized that when it came to her and Draco's relationship, she would protect it at all cost. "Isn't it obvious? He was putting on a show for McGonagall," she rolled her eyes for effect. "I thought you'd caught on to it. He wouldn't dare do or say anything with McGonagall watching."

Ron's entire frame seemed to slump in the face of this new information, and Hermione could see him trying to recall if he saw their head of house or not.

She waited patiently, hoping her anxiety wasn't showing.

After a few more moments, Ron let out a disgusted grunt. "That sly bastard," he shook his head.

Hermione resisted the urge to sigh in relief. "Yeah," she agreed and started walking towards the Grand Staircase again. "Why are you even surprised? This is  _Malfoy_  we're talking about. Anyway, what on earth did you think was going on?" she laughed to lighten the mood.

Ron ran a hand through his hair and shook his head for a second time. "Ah... nothing," he chuckled, looking a little sheepish.

Hermione looked past Ron, her eyes meeting grey eyes several shades darker than Draco's. Luna gazed back at Hermione, her expression as serious as Hermione had ever seen it.

It was strangely unsettling.

"Are you alright, Luna?" Hermione asked her voice slightly higher than usual.

"Oh, yes," Luna answered, a dreamy smile making its way back onto her face. "I'm quite fine, thank you."

Hermione smiled back as the trio began to climb the stairs, but as they trudged up the endless staircase in silence, she couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that Luna may know more than she was letting on.

* * *

The first two weeks back flew by in a blur of activity. Classes were completely bonkers and they were given more homework than was considered fair by the majority of the students of Hogwarts - of course the professors would argue otherwise.

Personally, Hermione didn't mind the homework. It was a known fact that, under normal circumstances, she actually thoroughly enjoyed it. Although in this scenario she wasn't so much enjoying it as she was  _accepting_  it as a necessary practice in hopes that it would keep her sane.

Hermione had attempted, numerous times over the last few weeks, to arrange to meet up with Draco - nothing special, just in the Library so they could have a chat and catch up. Hermione would have loved to do more than talk,  _obviously_ , but Harry was being extremely difficult at the moment. All they could get away with was a meeting in the Library, or a classroom, under the guise of working on a project for Ancient Runes. Not that any of that mattered because as it turned out, Draco was being a difficult sod too. She had tried passing him notes in class, tried sending him letters via Owl, and had even tried straight-up asking him to his face, disguising it as a question about school work, of course, but he rebuffed every single one of her efforts. Why? She had no bloody idea, but she was  _pissed_. After all, she could only ask him to meet her so many times before she started to look like a crazy obsessed bitch, which was basically where she was at now. So she'd stopped asking and instead took to glaring at him any chance she got, which wasn't often because he'd stopped eating in the Great Hall again and had even begun to miss classes. She barely bloody saw him.

Hermione was so  _confused_.

What the hell was wrong with him? Had he changed his mind about them? What on earth was going on? After spending the night together on Christmas day she thought they were past this kind of pettiness. If he was having seconds thoughts about them, or if he had something else on his mind, the least he could do was have the balls to just tell her what was going on, enough of the shady evasive shit.

It made her unbelievably  _angry_.

Hermione let out a frustrated growl and began to roughly shove her books back into her bag. Homework wasn't doing it for her tonight, she needed a better distraction. She noticed that the little booklet that had come with her necklace was poking out of the front zip pocket of her bag, as if taunting her, daring her to read it.  _No_. She couldn't. Not yet, not until Draco pulled his head out of his arse. She pushed it back in, making sure it want all the way to the bottom and then zipped it up securely.

She got up from her desk in the Library -  _their_  desk, Draco had once teased... God, in that moment she truly hated that so many things reminded her of him. Even when he wasn't in the room, something would catch her eye and tug at a memory and then she would be thinking about him,  _missing_  him. It was frustrating.

Hermione thought she would go and seek Ginny out, but as she exited the Library's towering archway she changed her mind. If she was going to get any peace at all she needed to confront this, whatever  _this_  was, straight on. No more pussyfooting around, Draco was going to have to man up and tell her exactly what was going on.

It was late, so the corridors were mostly darkened, the only light coming from the sparse candle sconces on the walls, which were flickering with the constant draught of air that seemed to waft endlessly throughout the castle and cast long shadows on the stone walls and floors.

Hermione remembered a time when she used to find the castle eerie and unsettling. She supposed that those particular feelings ended once she'd gotten used to seeing ghosts floating around the place and suddenly appearing through walls and such. Also, they were terribly friendly, always saying ' _hello'_  and asking ' _how are you?'._  It was kind of hard to be frightened when they were so bloody nice all the time... of course there was one exception.  _The Bloody Baron_. In all honesty, Hermione was still scared of him, but he tended to only haunt the dungeons, so she rarely saw him.

Hopefully she wouldn't bump into him tonight. She grimaced at the thought as she stepped onto the Grand Staircase.

It seemed luck was on her side because almost immediately she saw that Draco, Blaise and Theo were already making their way up it. She supposed it was a blessing really, because she honestly wasn't sure what she was going to do once she arrived at the entrance to the Slytherin common room. She couldn't exactly ask someone to fetch Draco, and she certainly wasn't sneaking in there again.

At the sight of the three of them together, Hermione gritted her teeth together, a sudden and unexpected surge of anger washing over her. Couldn't they bear to be away from each other for even a second? They had literally been glued to one another since the start of term.

She knew where they were going, it was obvious, they were heading to the Room of Requirement. She knew this because Harry had been watching them on his map and he'd seen them going there every single night for the past two weeks.

Hermione would be lying if she said she wasn't curious as to what they were doing in there. Draco had been going there often when their... relationship? - Yes, she could definitely call it that now - first started out. Although, he'd stopped going as much once Hermione had told him that Harry was watching him on the map. She had thought it was strange when he was going all the time, but once he'd cut back she hadn't really thought anymore of it. Everyone who knew about the Room of Requirement went there now and again. It was a very unique and versatile room. Why wouldn't you go? But when certain individuals, Slytherins especially, started going every night, it definitely heightened suspicions. It didn't help that they made it impossible for anyone to enter once they were inside. Harry had tried, more than once, in hopes of catching the Slytherins in the act of doing something nefarious. Unsurprisingly, it angered Harry, almost beyond reason, and as a result he was more paranoid than ever before. Now he was back to following Draco everywhere and his map seemed to be permanently glued to his hands.

Hermione eyed the trio, they hadn't noticed her yet. They were talking among themselves in hushed urgent tones. She couldn't make out exactly what they were saying, but she did catch random sharp words here and there.

 _Bad.._.

_No time..._

_Furious..._

Draco was  _very_  angry about something. Probably the angriest she'd ever seen him. His eyes were hard as marble and his lips were pulled back in a vicious snarl.

_Soon..._

_Kill..._

Kill? Did Draco just say kill? Kill who? Hermione's heart plummeted with dread. Surely she'd misheard him? Maybe she was taking it out of context and jumping to ridiculous conclusions? After all, she couldn't hear the whole sentence, he could have said,  _my mum will kill me,_ or something to that effect... Regardless, something was definitely going on here. Not only could she see it with her own eyes, but she had this horrible feeling deep in her gut that made her stomach roil unpleasantly.

Her steps, which had been sure and purposeful to start with, now stuttered to an abrupt stop, her confidence dwindling. Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea, not when he was clearly upset about something. Hermione knew she could be nosy and pushy at times, but she wasn't quite sure she wanted to get in the middle of whatever  _this_  was. She made to turn around and flee the scene unnoticed, but as she did so, Draco looked up, his eyes locking with hers, and it was like he'd cast a  _sticking_  Charm on her feet because suddenly she couldn't move, in fact she could barely breathe.

The Slytherins came to a standstill in front of her, three pairs of unnerving eyes narrowed in her direction. She was blocking their path, she knew this, but she couldn't seem to get her limbs to work.

Her necklace buzzed violently beneath her shirt and she was certain they could see it.

"Move it,  _Granger_ ," Nott hissed menacingly.

Hermione gaped in the face of his blatant hostility. That was a very good idea, but she couldn't.  _Bloody hell, why couldn't she move?_

"Are you deaf?" Nott barked, taking a step closer when it seemed she had no intention of moving. "Move out of the fucking way!"

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but he swiftly, and rather rudely, cut her off.

"If you don't move,  _right now_ , I'm going to -"

"YOU WON'T DO A FUCKING  _THING!_ " Draco suddenly roared, eyes alight with a ferocity that made Hermione flinch.

Nott reared his head back, his face dissolving into a look of pure unadulterated shock. If Hermione wasn't shocked herself, she probably would have laughed. "Draco?... What the f -?"

"Don't you  _ever_  fucking talk to her like that again, do you understand?" he demanded in a tone so cold and  _so chilling_  Hermione could have sworn she felt the air around them drop a few degrees.

Hermione looked on, eyes as wide as saucers. She felt dizzy and disjointed like she was in a dream. Shit, this was such a bad idea. Why didn't she just stay in the Library?

" _Draco_ , calm down," Blaise gritted, trying to diffuse the situation. " _Think_  before you say anything more."

Blaise was angry now too, he was glowering at Hermione like it was all her fault, which, really, she couldn't disagree with. She was such an idiot. When was she going to  _learn?_

Draco seemed to consider Blaise's words for a moment, and then took several deep breaths before scrunching his face up and roughly rubbing both hands over it.

"What the fuck?" Theo asked no one in particular, looking thoroughly confused. He glanced at Hermione and frowned. "Am I missing something here?"

"Come on, Theo," Blaise sighed, gripping his upper arm and pulling him up the stairs. "We'll see you up there, Draco."

Hermione could hear Theo demanding that Blaise tell him what the fuck all that was about, but soon their voices faded and then there was only her and Draco left on the staircase.

They were silent for long moments, Hermione staring at his face whilst he stared off into nothingness.

Now that she was looking at him properly, she could see that he looked tired, exhausted even, and possibly ill. He had dark smudges under his eyes and his skin was much paler than usual. In a word, he looked  _haggard_. It was troubling. No teenager should look so careworn.

"Draco?" she began tentatively, taking a small step towards him.

"What is it, Hermione?" he snapped, head whipping around so that he could hit her with the full brunt of his glare. "What's so important that you've been  _so_  desperate to get my attention? Because I can't fucking imagine what it is. It must be momentous though, so tell me. What is it?"

Hermione internally recoiled, feeling a mixture of hurt and embarrassment - hurt because she couldn't understand why he was so angry with her for wanting to see him, and embarrassed because he referred to her actions as  _desperate._ She didn't know what to say to him, ' _I just wanted to see you'_  didn't sound adequate enough when she said it in her head. She felt small in that moment, like a little adolescent child.

Draco let loose a deep regretful sigh. "Shit, Hermione, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."

Hermione glanced up at him, brown eyes dulled with sadness. "Draco, what's going on with you?"

He stared at her, eyes wild and troubled. "We need to talk," he told her ominously, his tone deep, yet gentle. "But I can't right now. Can you just give me one more day? Just one more day and then I promise I'll tell you everything."

Hermione gazed at him, taking in his frantic expression. He looked utterly frightened, and it made her blood turn cold and her palms begin to sweat. She could feel her heart punching the inside of her chest and hear blood rushing in her ears. "Do you want to end things?" she asked him tonelessly. "Because if you do, I'd rather you just say it now. I don't need to hear  _why_  or anything like that. Just give it to me straight."

Draco blinked, his expression turning dark. "No. No, I don't want to end things... but you will," he finished in a disquieting manner.

_No, but you will._

A shiver crawled up Hermione's spine and she sucked in a sharp breath, gripping the banister for support.  _You will. You will._  "What have you done?" she whispered, her body beginning to tremble with adrenaline.

_He's done something... He's done something bad... What is it? What is it?!_

Draco pressed his lips together and shook his head. "Not now. Tomorrow."

Tomorrow? T _omorrow?!_ Was he insane? If he didn't tell her now, she wouldn't live to see the dawn of day with all the stressing she'd surely do for the rest of the night. "What have you done?!" she yelled, a dry sob escaping her lips. "Tell me. Tell me,  _now!_  I want to know!"

"Hermione,  _please_ ," he pleaded, as he stepped towards her, holding his hands out to calm her.

Thousands of different scenarios began to flick through her mind as if on an old fashioned picture reel, each one worse than the last.

How could he do this? How could he say something like that and just expect her to drop it until he was ready to tell her.  _Fine_ , she had sought him out, she was the one who had confronted him, but now that the cat was partially out of the bag he couldn't expect her to just lie down and drool like some obedient pet.

She lunged at him, almost sending them both tumbling down the stairs. She felt utterly unhinged and she wasn't entirely sure why. Perhaps it was because she knew _, she just knew,_  that whatever he was going to tell her was going to bring her whole world crashing down around her. It was strange really, why was she so certain it was going to be _that_  bad? She supposed Draco's face alone was a good enough reason, he looked downright disturbed and guilt-ridden, only something horrendous could evoke such a reaction from Draco sodding Malfoy.

God, she wanted to hurt him. She didn't even know what he'd done yet and she already wanted to  _hurt him_.

"You stupid arse! What have you done!?" she balled her fist and sent it flying towards his chest, but he caught it in his own palm before it connected.

He didn't even yell at her or tell her to stop. In any other situation he would have been cursing up a storm and calling her a crazy bitch or something of the sort, yet all he did was wrap his arms around her and hold her tightly to his chest, even as she continued to try and land several punches anywhere she could reach.

It wasn't long until the fight drained out of her and she was stretching her hands up and burying them in his hair. She felt deranged as she tugged his head down and crashed their lips together hungrily,  _savagely_.

Hermione took all her frustrations out on his mouth, dragging her teeth over his lips and sucking them into her mouth. She was rough and relentless and she didn't care. Draco let her do it without complaint and simply yielded to her assault.

She probably wasn't helping matters, whatever he was hiding from her was obviously a big deal, and her acting like a savage beast wasn't going to entice him into wanting to talk to her. She needed to be more patient and understanding - even if it killed her to do so.

"Just tell me," she breathed against his lips sometime later - was it a minute? five? twenty? - her breath coming out in sharp puffs. She had calmed down enough that her kisses had turned sweet and gentle. She cradled his face between her hands and pressed her forehead against his, trying to prepare herself for a likely crippling blow. "It's OK, you can tell me."

"Hermione," he sighed, tugging at her wrists gently and retreating down a step away from her. Hermione's arms dropped to her sides and she felt her anger bubbling up to the surface again. She wasn't sure why, but she just couldn't seem to keep herself in check. "It's not as easy as that. Please understand, it's not something I can just  _say_. I want to tell you the whole story, from start to finish. I  _need_  you to know  _everything_. And I can't tell you everything in a few short sentences. I'm sorry, I know it's not fair of me to ask you to wait, but I have to go and -"

"No, it isn't fair, Draco! None of what you've been doing is fair. For the past few weeks you've made me feel insignificant, like I'm not worthy of your time," she glared at him and to her horror she felt her eyes begin to prickle.

_No, no, no. Don't cry. There's no reason to cry._

She was angry though, and upset, and  _frustrated!_

She blinked, willing her tears to go away, but of course that was asking too much. Instead she felt them brimming, blurring her vision until it was like she was looking through a rain-streaked window, then one treacherous little droplet escaped and ran down the length of her cheek and she felt utterly disgusted with herself. She was better than this.

Draco looked devastated as his eyes followed the path of her wayward tear. "Please don't cry," he murmured, reaching his left hand out to presumably brush it away. If this was a movie, she'd burst into hysterics and he would pull her close, shushing her gently as he comforted her in that over-done cliché way.

But this wasn't a movie, this was real life, and she was Hermione Granger.

Hermione brought her own hand up and back-handed his arm away viciously - she didn't need his pity nor want it - but as her hand connected with his arm, a gut-wrenching cry tore from his lips and he dropped to his knees, his face contorted in pure agony.

_What the hell?_

Hermione stared at him, completely stunned, as he writhed in pain on the stairs.

"Oh my God!" she exclaimed, dropping to her own knees next to him. "Draco, what is it? What's wrong?"

Draco groaned and clutched his arm to his chest as he gasped in pain.

Shit, what was wrong with him? She didn't hit him that hard, did she?

Hermione's hands fluttered around him uselessly, not knowing what to do. "Draco, talk to me. What is it? What's happening?"

Draco shook his head harshly, his face scrunched up. "Nothing..." he gritted. "Just... move out of the way. I'm - I'm fine. I'm OK. I just need to..."

Hermione's hands came up to cover her mouth as he attempted to get up but instantly collapsed back down again. Why couldn't he stand up? Shit, she'd done this. She'd hurt him. Oh God. Had she cursed him by accident with wandless magic? How could this have happened? She hadn't lost control of her magic in years. "Draco, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to.  _I didn't mean to_. Let me help you. I'll take you to Madam Pomfrey. I'll -"

"NO!" he growled, albeit weakly. "It's fine. It's not your fault. You didn't do anything. I just need to go and see..." he broke off and titled forward, his eyes going unfocused.

"Draco!" she shrieked, panic surging through her veins.

_What the fuck was wrong with him?_

She took his left arm in her hands gently as that seemed to be where the problem was, but of course she couldn't see anything with his clothes on and she was too scared to push the sleeve of his jumped up in case she hurt him some more.

_Shit. Shit. Shit. What could she do?_

Then she had a thought... She grabbed her bag, which had fallen at some point from the stairs a couple of steps up, and reached inside for her wand.

She whipped it out with a flourish, pointing it at his jumper and vanishing it in an instant.

"What are you doing?" he hissed, grabbing her wand and throwing it before she had the chance to vanish his shirt. "Just stop,  _leave it_."

Hermione watched her wand clatter down the stairs, but didn't move to retrieve it. She was too scared to leave him in case he did something stupid, like try to stand up again. "Why did you do that?" she yelled. "I was trying to help you."

"You can't help me," he wheezed. "There's nothing you can do. Can you just... I need you to go and get... Snape."

Snape? Why Snape? What the hell was he going to do?

Hermione glanced down at the sleeve of his shirt and was horrified to find it soaked with blood. "Oh God, Draco," she whined. "You're bleeding!"

Why was he bleeding?! What the fuck was going? Was he already injured?

She tried to undo the buttons on his cuff, but he yank his arm away with surprising force. " _Snape_!" he rasped, breaking off with a wince. "Tell him -"

"What the fuck is going on here?" came a familiar tone, only several degrees cooler than she was used to hearing.

_Shit. Harry._

Hermione whipped her head around, seeing Harry standing above them, his face like thunder. "I don't know," she told him in a rush. "He's hurt. His arm is... I'm not sure... he's in a massive amount of pain. I have no idea what happened. I think I might have done it, but I don't know... I didn't mean to though.  _I didn't mean to,_ " and she was crying again, but this time she was properly crying, as in great heaving sobs. She also wasn't making an ounce of sense.

Harry yanked her up from the floor and shook her. "Stop it," he chastised. "Tell me exactly what happened? Did he hurt you?" his furious green eyes scanned Hermione's person for any signs of damage.

"No, no!" she pulled herself from his grip. "He's the one that's hurt, not me!"  _For Christ's sake._  "We have to go and get Snape!"

Harry frowned. "Snape? Why?"

Hermione looked over Harry's shoulder and saw Draco staggering up the remaining stairs and onto the 1st floor. "Draco!" she called out aghast, fuming with herself for not keeping an eye on him and fuming with Harry for showing up and distracting her. "Wait! You shouldn't move. I'm going to get Snape! Please, just wait!"

Harry looked over his shoulder at Draco's hunched retreating form and then back at Hermione, his eyes narrowed with suspicion.

Hermione watched his face for a few moments, crinkled with confusion at first, but then going smooth with understanding. She knew the exact moment he figured out what was going on because his eyes darkened with a betrayal so strong it almost took her breath away. And then he spun around, charging up the stairs, most assuredly going after Draco. "Harry!" she screamed, running after him. "Don't you  _dare_  do anything to him! Do you hear me? Don't you  _dare_!"

Oh God,  _oh God_. Why was this happening? Why was this happening now? Hermione tripped and hit the stairs hard. Her whole body felt as though it was made of jelly and she couldn't feel her limbs properly or see straight. There was a high-pitched ringing in her ears and a tightness in her chest and she couldn't breathe, _fuck_ , she couldn't  _breathe_. She felt like she was dying.

Right there, sprawled on the Grand Staircase like the dramatic fool she was, at what was quite possibly the most inconvenient time  _ever_ , Hermione Granger was having a full-blown panic-attack and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.

* * *

Draco fell through the bathroom door, landing hard on his hands and knees with a grunt.

Pain was radiating through his entire body in sickening waves that labored his breathing and had him curling in on himself to try and relieve some of the agonizing burn... Yes, that's what it felt like,  _fire_ , like he was burning from the inside out. It was absolutely  _excruciating_  and from the feel of it, it was getting worse with every passing second.

He was dying.  _He was fucking dying_.

It was a hard pill to swallow, of course, because he didn't want to die, not really, he may have entertained the idea from time to time when things were really bad. But then he'd give his head a sharp wobble and get on with it. Although, in retrospect, if he didn't have Hermione, a head wobble probably wouldn't cut it… Who was he kidding? It  _wouldn't_  cut it. She was his beacon of light in this dark world. She made everything seem so much better, when in reality it was falling down around him. She made him hope and dream of a future where everything would be alright, free from this ever-present torment and dread that hung around him like a suffocating cape that he couldn't remove no matter how hard he tried. Without her, he wouldn't have been able to shoulder this burden as long as he had. And the sad thing was, she didn't know any of this, she had no idea how important she was to him.

Alas, none of that mattered now. In truth, he'd been dying from the moment he allowed Voldemort to mark him with his virulent Dark Mark. Draco had known what it was doing to his body, he'd felt it and seen it. He should have gotten help sooner. He should have gone to Snape and told him what was happening. He should have done  _something_  instead of just ignoring it and hoping it would go away.

He'd made a huge mistake, the biggest mistake, and now he was going to pay for it with his life.

_Fuck._

Despite all his efforts, he'd still managed to royally fuck everything up. Why couldn't he do anything right? You had to be a special kind of idiot to mess everything up as thoroughly as he had. His mother would suffer now because of him, she would never be free of the Dark Lord. She would die by his hands. And Hermione...  _Hermione..._ Draco let out a shuddering breath. She would never know the truth,  _his truth_ , she would hear it second-hand, of course, Blaise would tell her and try to make her understand, but it wouldn't be enough. Draco knew this. She needed to hear it from him, she needed to see the grief in his eyes and hear the honesty in his words and know that he's so very sorry and if he could go back and change everything, he would, in a heartbeat!

Now that would never happen.

He would die and she would hate him, despise the memory of him. That thought alone was more painful than the fire burning inside of him.

 _Fuck._ If he could scream, he would. He would scream until his lungs were empty of air and his throat was raw.

One of his biggest regrets was that he didn't even get the chance to tell her how he really felt about her. He'd had numerous opportunities on Christmas Day, yet he'd squandered them all because he was too scared to open himself up, too scared to be rejected, too scared of what she would think and what she would say in return. He was a coward. He was a fool.  _'You'll have loads of time,'_  he'd thought. Loads of time to tell her about his Dark Mark, about the Dark Lord, about his mother, about the tasks, about  _everything_. About how he felt about her, about how she made him feel, about how much she meant to him in this difficult time of his life.  _More time_. It was like a sick joke. Now he had no time. It was too late.

_Shoulda, coulda, woulda._

Draco pulled himself across the floor towards the wall and sat up with his back against it, breathing in deep rattling breaths.

He needed to get up. He wouldn't die sprawled on the bathroom floor, he wouldn't allow it.

He brought his knees up to his chest, planting the soles of his feet on the floor, and attempted to push himself up, using the wall for support. It was torture, sharp pains shot through him in objection, his head swam alarmingly, and his legs shook uncontrollably. He only made it a few inches off the floor before he fell back down again, crying out in pain. He tried it again, and again, and again, but each time ended much the same.

It was utterly infuriating.

"For fucks sake!" he yelled out in sheer frustration, his voice hoarse and cracked. Why couldn't he do it?! How was this happening so quickly? It was like his body had just fully given up on him.

He pushed up again, this time throwing everything he had into it, his anger, his frustration, his regrets, his sadness, and used it to help propel himself upwards. Every muscle in his body screamed in protest, a vein in his temple throbbed and his teeth gritted together so hard he thought they might break, but it worked! He managed to get himself to a standing position, albeit a rather slumped one.

Draco pushed off from the wall and shuffled over to the sinks, leaning down and struggling as he turned the cold tap on. He splashed freezing cold water onto his face and it was like injecting himself with a little burst life, sadly it barely lasted a few seconds.

He was hot, his skin was burning, and the slight rub of his clothes on his person was agonizing.

He groaned, straightening up as best he could, and gazed into the mirror. It took him a minute to realize who he was looking at, because the person staring back at him was almost unrecognizable – sweat-dampened hair, pasty skin, dark circles, horrifically bloodshot eyes - this person looked like death warmed up, and he wondered whether the mirror had been enchanted for a prank. It had to have been. This wasn't him, he didn't look like this. He looked fine before. Tired? Yes. Dead? No. How had he deteriorated so quickly? How was it even possible? It was one thing to feel like you were dying, but looking the evidence literally in the face was quite another.

Draco's left shirt sleeve was soaked with blood and he recoiled at the sight. He could see that the bruising had spread onto his neck and around his jaw, and his left hand was completely purple now. It was utterly shocking how fast it had spread and was  _still_  spreading.

He began to undo his shirt buttons, one by one, with weak fumbling fingers. He was morbidly curious to see how far the bruising had actually gone - why? He had no idea. He should get out of the bathroom while he still could. There was no use dwelling on what was happening. Potter was surely going to show up soon, he'd find Draco on his map, and that was the last thing he needed right now. Righteous Potter, out to save the day and the people of Hogwarts from the big bad Death Eater. Regardless of this, Draco continued to unbutton his shirt, he pulled the shirt-tails out of his trouser and tugged them wide apart.

_Fucking hell._

He swallowed thickly at the hideous sight that met his eyes, and shook the rest of his shirt off, letting it fall to the floor at his feet.

This couldn't be real. He had to be dreaming.

Draco's left arm looked as though it was  _rotting_ , as revolting as that was, but it really did. The skin was literally disintegrating, exposing deeper layers of yellow-looking flesh that no one should ever have to see, and it made Draco want to throw up. The Dark Mark was stark and unblemished, the snake moving lazily in and out of the eye sockets and mouth of the skull. It was like it was mocking him. And in an absurd moment of complete insanity, he felt like grabbing his wand and cutting the despicable thing out of his skin. He didn't care if he had to dig deep, he didn't care if he had to chop his entire arm off. He wanted it gone! He didn't want to look at it for another second.

Draco retched harshly, but nothing came up.

Fuck.  _Fuck._

He quickly scanned the rest of his body, taking note of the bruising that had spread across his chest to his right arm and even disappeared below the waistband of his trousers. Although the bruising looked nasty, it was nothing compared to what was going on with his left arm.

He literally looked like a walking corpse. The name Death Eater seemed so fitting in that moment. He was sure that this was the Dark Lord's intention all along, he must have known that Draco was never truly in agreement with what he was preaching. This was his revenge, and such a Slytherin way to do it. Draco almost admired him for his sheer cunningness. The Dark Lord often liked to torture disloyal and disobedient followers on the spot, he loved to watch them suffer for hours until they finally cracked, or carked it, but apparently he had bigger plans for Draco. How had he not seen it for what it really was? Surely that's what was happening here? Because Draco had never heard of this happening to any of the other Death Eaters.

He was suddenly overcome with a coughing fit, he gripped the edge of the sink for support as his body tensed and shook with the convulsions. It hurt like a bitch. It hurt in places he didn't even know could hurt so much.

Once it had passed, he glanced back in the mirror, which was now speckled red. He was confused at first, wondering where it had come from, but then he saw the fresh glistening blood coating his lips, and he knew it had come from him, _from inside him_.

That wasn't a good sign - coughing up blood was never a good sign. Draco felt like he should be more worried, yet he wasn't, and that in itself was very worrying indeed. He didn't want to give up. He wanted to fight to the very end. But seeing what he looked like in the mirror and feeling how he was currently feeling, he knew it was over, and to be honest, he was tired,  _so fucking tired,_ he'd had enough now _._  It was time to accept the inescapable.

"Malfoy?" came a stunned voice from the doorway.

Draco tilted his head up, seeing Potter's shocked expression in the mirror.

"What?..." Potter trailed off, looking lost for words - and who could blame him? "What the fuck happened to you? Are you sick?" he asked, eyes raking Draco's person. He looked utterly disgusted at what he saw.

"Sick? Yes," Draco rasped, turning around slowly to face him. "Sick of you spying on me and just sick of you in general, really."

"Malfoy, what happened to you?" Potter demanded, stepping further into the bathroom.

Draco leaned back against the sink, trying to make it look casual. Despite how terrible he looked he didn't want to seem weak in front of Potter, he'd rather gouge his own eyes out than give the prick the satisfaction. "I'm sorry, you seem to have me confused with most of the idiots in this place. I don't answer to the  _Great Harry Potter,_ so why don't you run along back to your tower, where everyone showers you with praise and tells you how amazing you are, and leave me the fuck alone."

Potter's eyes narrowed and his jaw tensed. Draco had hit a nerve.  _Good_. "I know about you and Hermione," he gritted.

This surprised Draco and caught him off guard, though he recovered quickly. "You don't know shit," he said, tone low and dangerous.

"I know something's going on between the two of you, and by the way she acted before, it's been going on for a while," Potter looked furiously cool as he said this. "You won't go near her again," he told the blond. "Do you understand?"

Draco smirked. "Something tells me that won't be a problem, but let me be clear, Potter. If I wanted to continue seeing Hermione, I would. There's nothing you could do or say to stop me.  _Do you understand that_?" he threw back snidely.

"So you used her?" Potter spat. "You've just admitted that if you  _wanted_  to continue seeing her you would. What a piece of shit you are. You're all the same you Slytherins, sly bunch of bastards. You'll do anything for your own amusement."

Draco hunched over as another violent bout of coughing wracked his weakening frame. He covered his mouth with his hand and felt the blood splattering his palm. After a few moments the coughing stopped and he curled his fingers into a first, effectively hiding the blood from Potter, and wiped his mouth with the back of his trembling hand. "You really are dense," he croaked. "Believe what you want to believe, Potter. Whatever makes you sleep at night. It doesn't matter anyway."

Draco was finding it increasingly difficult to stay in an upright position. The pain was almost unbearable now and his head was swimming like he'd just completed a hundred tight loops on his broom. He could feel sweat dripping down his face and could feel the rot on his arm spreading to his shoulder. His heart felt funny and there was a strange pressure in his chest that wasn't there before. Shit, at this rate, he'd be surprised if he lasted the next five minutes. How unfair that Potter would be here to bear witness to his undignified demise. Couldn't he catch a break? He gave in and lowered himself ungracefully to the floor. Fuck Potter and what he thinks.

Potter frowned, his expression faltering. Buggering hell, but he wasn't feeling  _sorry_  for Draco, was he? His eyes took in the blond's slumped frame that was shaking uncontrollably. "Shit, Malfoy, you need to go to the hospital wing. You're -" he broke off, his eyes dropping to the inside of Draco's left forearm. "I knew it!" he suddenly hissed in outrage, his previous statement about going to the hospital wing forgotten in the face of his new discovery. "I fucking knew you were a Death Eater! I fucking knew it! How could you not be with a father like yours?" he spat. "No one fucking believed me when I told them, they called me  _crazy_... Can you believe that? What a fucking... wait... does Hermione know?" he asked in a disquieting tone, striding across the bathroom to tower over the blond threateningly. "Tell me! Does she know that you're a fucking Death Eater?"

Draco leaned back and stared up at Potters lived face, his own face drawn and weary as his eyes drooped and fought to stay open. "What do you think?" he asked on a pained huff of air.

"Don't mess with me, Malfoy. I  _will_  kill you!" Potter roared, pointing his wand directly at the blond's chest.

Draco couldn't help it, he laughed, or at least tried to. "For fucks sake, Potter. Look at me, I'm already _dying_ , but if it makes you feel better, by all means speed up the process. Do what you must, it doesn't matter either way, the outcome is still the same. If I were you, I'd do it. After everything I've done, everything I've said to you. I'm a Death Eater for Christ's sake. What the fuck are you waiting for?  _Do it_."

Draco watched Potter's wand hand shake with indecision, little sparks shooting from the tip. He wanted Potter to kill him. He wanted to be put out of this misery.

"I fucked… Hermione," Draco breathed, fully aware that  _this_  would push Potter over the edge. " _So_  many times -"

"Stop it," Potter gritted.

"I fucked her in my bed, she rode my cock and she screamed my name when she came. It was -"

"STOP IT!" Potter bellowed, spittle flying from his mouth. "Don't you say another word, or I'll -"

"Or you'll what?" Draco fumed. "You won't do anything. I thought I was pathetic, but you're something else. I just told you I fucked your best friend and you're not even doing anything about it? What's wrong with you? Do you want to hear about how she sucked my cock after Slughorn's party? Or maybe you want to hear about how I ate her pussy in the Room of Requirement -"

"I said _STOP!_  -" Potter's wand was positively raining red sparks now. Good. He was angry enough that he might actually do it after all.

"MAKE ME?!" Draco roared back, using the last of his energy.

"SECTUMSEMPRA!" Potter yelled and Draco had the vague wondering of what the fuck the spell was before he was hit with a jet of purple light that sent him flying backwards through the air.

Draco's head bounced sickeningly off the stone floor as he landed in the middle of the bathroom. He gasped harshly, hands coming up to scrabble at his chest, which was blood soaked and torn to pieces.  _What the fuck was that spell?_  It felt as though he had been slashed multiple times by an invisible sword.

No matter, Potter had done it. He'd actually done it. Good for him. Would it have killed him to give Draco a quick and painless death though? Draco supposed it would have.

Suddenly there was a scream, a gut-wrenching scream that pierced the air and bounced off the stone walls, creating ripples and echoes of sound, and then Hermione appeared next to him like she'd  _Apparated_  to the spot right beside him.

"Draco," she gasped. "Ooooooh,  _noooo_ , please, no," she cried, her voice deep, drawn-out and wobbly in a way he'd never heard before, not just from her, but anyone. It was like she was in physical pain. "Draco! No. Oh my God.  _No!_ What did you do, Harry? What did you do!?" she let out a low-pitched prolonged keening sound that seemed to come from some place deep inside her. It was heartbreaking,  _utterly heartbreaking_ , and Draco wanted it to stop. He wanted it to stop  _now_ , he couldn't bear it. It was the worst thing he'd ever heard in his life, and he'd do anything to make it stop.  _Anything_.

He opened his mouth to say something to her, to ease her pain, tell her everything was OK, she would be fine, but blood gurgled up and he began choking.

"No," she sobbed, tears streaming down her blotchy face. "Don't speak,  _ssssshhhh_ , it's OK," her shaking hands framed his face and she peppered wet kisses on his cheeks, smearing his blood all over her mouth and chin. "You're going to be OK," she told him earnestly, brushing his sweat-soaked hair from his face. "You're not going to die on me, you  _can't_ ," she gritted, a fresh bout of sobs spilling from her lips. "You have to  _fight_. You can't leave me, Draco. We've barely started. There's so much more for us to discover,  _together_... I love you. I love you so much. I should have told you sooner,  _I should have told you sooner._  I'm so sorry. Please, Draco, just don't go.  _Don't leave me_."

Draco closed his eyes tightly against the onslaught of emotion,  _fuck_ , he couldn't listen to this anymore. It was breaking his fucking heart. To hear her say those words was like a blessing and a curse, a blessing because he never thought he'd hear them, he didn't think it was possible. And a curse because as much as Hermione wanted him to fight, he was  _dying,_  and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

He coughed and spluttered, blood spilling from the corners of his mouth and clogging up his throat. He couldn't breathe. He was choking. He was literally choking on his own blood. How undeniably fitting. He'd been taught from a young age that his pure blood was what made him special, it was what put him above all others, he was rare, one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, and now it was killing him. The irony was not lost on him. He welcomed it.  _He deserved it_.

"Draco?" Hermione screeched in panic at hearing the choking sounds that were coming from his mouth. "Draco, it's alright. Help is coming. Just stay with me. Hold on."

Draco stared up at her, his silver eyes wide. "Hermione," he gurgled. "I -" his vision began to swim in and out of focus and he blinked repeatedly trying to regain it. Then he saw it, a black cloaked figure swooping into the room and he thought to himself,  _'fuck, this is it. I'm going to hell.'_

Darkness swiftly claimed him, and then there was nothing... he felt nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the cliffy, I did not intent to end the chapter here, but it's over 12,000 words and here seemed like a good place. Don't hate me!
> 
> I should probably mention that I changed the location of the bathroom because I honestly didn't think Draco could have made it all the way up to the 6th floor in his condition - at least I think that's where the bathroom (where it all went down) was in the original book? Meh, I can't remember, but honestly it doesn't matter. The bathroom is on the 1st floor in my story :-). And if there isn't technically one there, there is now! Haha. That's the beauty of fanfiction. I know most of you won't care one iota about this, but there's always one who's a stickler for facts and the layout of the Harry Potter world, haha! So this is for you, with love... and don't curse me please. Thank you. :D
> 
> Lastly, I'm really sorry this chapter took me so long, I've been struggling with my anxiety for the past month or so, which is something I hate to admit so publicly, but you all deserve to know seeing as it's interfering with my writing. Usually writing helps with my anxiety, it's a way for me to escape, but because of the nature of this chapter I found it was making it ten times worse whenever I tried to sit down and write. This is an extremely angsty chapter, at least for me, and although you may not think it's bad, remember that you're only lost in the angst for half an hour or so while you're reading it. I'm lost it in for days, weeks, while I'm writing it. I truly do get lost in the characters when I write them, like it's all actually happening to me, so when my anxiety is rearing its ugly head that isn't a place I want to be. I hope you understand. I've been to see my doctor and I'm on some good medication, so all seems to be under-control now. I just want to say thank you so much for being so patient. It really does mean the world. I'm scared that you'll all just think, fuck it! And stop reading it because you think I'm taking too long. Please know that I'm never giving up on this story. I'm totally invested and I want to see this complete just as much as you do :-).
> 
> Anyway, what did you think of the chapter? Do you like my take on 'the bathroom scene'? Obviously still more angst to come next chapter. Hold onto your pointy witch hats! :D
> 
> Thank you Black_Osmosis for catching my typos and making sure my commas are all in the right places *big hug*


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: As with the last chapter, this one is going to be a little gory to begin with. Also, possibly, emotionally distressing, but that really depends on the person reading. Just please be cautious if you find you are someone who is easily triggered. I say this because I had a reader tell me that one of the chapters was very distressing for them and I should have put a warning at the beginning. I felt terrible and I really don't want that to happen again.

"Out of the way," Snape snapped impatiently. "Foolish girl."

Hermione fell backwards in her haste to make room for the Professor.

Snape crouched down, his dark robes billowing like an ominous cloud before settling on the ground behind him. She watched his intelligent black eyes scan Draco's lifeless form, carefully taking everything in as he fully assessed the extent of the damage. She saw the moment his eyes registered the blonds decaying arm because they lingered, widening ever so slightly, and a muscle jump in his jaw, a telltale sign that he was clenching his teeth. He shook his head gravely. He looked angry, so very  _angry_. But he also looked upset, and that was something Hermione didn't want to see, she couldn't bear it.

She wriggled backwards, using her hands and the heels of her feet to propel herself further away, her palms slipped in Draco's blood and she cried out in utter distress, frantically wiping them on her jumper and skirt. No amount of wiping could clean the blood from them though, they were stained now, possibly forever if Snape failed to save Draco. She couldn't help but feel responsible. This would never have happened if she hadn't sought him out. Why couldn't she have just let it be? Let him come to her when he was ready? God, she had done this. It was her fault that they were all in this situation. She leaned back against the cold, stone wall and wrapped her arms around her knees, pulling them flush against her chest. She rocked herself backwards and forwards, muttering deliriously under her breath.

She felt completely unhinged and was sure she looked it, too.

_Please, no. This can't be happening... let it be a nightmare._

She closed her eyes to block out the horror scene before her and reached inside her jumper, grabbing her necklace with her bloodied right hand and squeezing the pendant  _so hard_  it almost cut into her skin.

 _Why had it stopped pulsing?_   _Why had it stopped pulsing?!_

Hermione opened her eyes with a gasp, tears gathering in the corners and threatening to fall.

_Because his heart had stopped beating... that's why._

She tried to not let the darkness swallow her whole,  _she tried_ , but it was difficult. She could feel it pressing in all around her like an inevitable foreboding presence, waiting for the right moment to swoop in and consume her.

Draco's heart wasn't beating, which ultimately meant he was dead.  _He was dead…_   _Dead, dead, dead._ Was this even real? She looked over at him, shock radiating through her in violent waves.

"For fuck's sake!" she bellowed at Snape. "Do something! His heart has stopped beating. You need to do something,  _now!_ "

Snape threw her a withering glare filled with the type of animosity you wouldn't expect from a teacher, but this was Snape. She really shouldn't be surprised.

His lack of a verbal response didn't bother her, because in the next second he began to wave his wand backwards and forwards over Draco's limp form, focusing on his chest and arm.

His wand movements and the white aura that suddenly suffused Draco's body told Hermione that he was undertaking an in-depth internal and external examination. She tried to stay as silent as possible, so much so that she was barely breathing. This step was absolutely crucial as it would give Snape all the information needed to attempt a successful resuscitation.

The fact that Snape was trying to bring Draco back at all was a good sign, it should have been reassuring, it meant that he thought he could save him, yet that didn't stop Hermione from almost rocketing into another panic attack.

In a desperate attempt to preserve her sanity, she tried to convince herself that none of it was real, that it wasn't really happening. In her mind she wasn't in a blood stained bathroom, Draco wasn't dead, and her heart wasn't broken beyond repair. Instead, she was in the Library, reading one of her favorite books. And Draco was sat opposite her at their special table - the one at the back near the window - and he was leaning back casually in his chair, gazing at her through his long golden eyelashes, a sinful smile tugging at his lips. He looked stunning, all sharp angles and smoldering silver eyes -

"You stupid,  _stupid_  boy!"

Snape's furious voice broke through her subconscious, shattering her brief daydream into tiny little particles that blew away like dust in the wind and brought her silently screaming back to awareness.

Hermione gasped harshly, her vision coming back into sharp focus.  _No_. She didn't want to be here.  _No!_  She wanted to be  _anywhere_  but here. She tried to conjure up more daydreams and memories, trying her hardest to fully immerse herself in them. But it wasn't working anymore, and before she knew what was happening, her eyes were straying to the Dark Mark on Draco's forearm - stark and unmistakable among all the blood and gore. And then she was  _really_  screaming, in loud, jarring timbres that ricocheted off the tiled walls.

" _Shut up_!" Snape turned to snarl at her and she immediately snapped her mouth closed. His harsh words, although insensitive, were exactly what she needed to snap out of it. They gave her a good kick up the arse, but also calmed her somewhat. She could already sense her sanity coming back to her.

She stared at the Dark Mark, dread filling up her stomach and twisting her guts into hundreds of nauseating knots.

Hermione had seen the Dark Mark the second she'd walked into the bathroom... of course she had. How could she not? With everything else that had been going on - for example, Draco being cut open like a piece of meat and choking on his own blood - she'd easily managed to block it out.

Now, it wasn't so easy. Not in the relative calmness of the fallout. Not when it was staring her right in the face.

God, it can't be real.  _It can't be_. She'd have known... Wouldn't she?...  _How had she not known?!_  How could she have missed something so big?

It was incomprehensible.

Was that what he'd wanted to tell her? Was that what had him looking so uncharacteristically frightened? Was that why he'd been avoiding her and acting so strange these past couple of weeks?

 _God_. She couldn't fathom any of it. None of it made sense. She'd seen him without his clothes on  _so_  many times, too many to count. He must have just gotten it recently. But how? He was here over Christmas, so that didn't make sense either. Unless he'd left the castle at some point? Yes, that must be it... But it still begged the question,  _why the fuck would he agree to let Voldemort mark him?!_ He must have been put under immense pressure.  _He must have_. He wouldn't have agreed to it otherwise... would he?

She began to cry again, her small frame shaking uncontrollably. She just didn't know, she didn't know anything anymore. She was so confused. Her whole world had literally been turned upside down and she didn't know what to think.

Regardless, she had to pull it together. She couldn't agonize over the  _what's_  and  _why's_  now. It was too much. All she wanted was for Draco to be OK. That's what was most important. He had to pull through this,  _he had to._ And when he did, he could tell her himself exactly what happened. She would listen,  _she promised she would listen._ She would keep an open mind,  _she would_... just let him live...  _please just let him live._

Hermione's puffy red eyes landed on Draco's face and she let out another low, sorrow-filled keen that came from a place she didn't even know existed. He was too pale,  _far too pale_ , like all the blood had drained from his body, which sounded crazy, because it was  _everywhere_ \- covering his body and pooling around him like a dark crimson cape. It was truly horrifying. His lips were startlingly blue, his limbs were loose and bent at odd angles, and the deep gashes on his chest were so gruesome they made her retch. Although, not as gruesome as his arm, that was something else entirely, something straight out of a Muggle horror movie. She could barely look at it. She had no idea why his arm was decaying like it was, but she knew it had something to do with the Dark Mark. That much was obvious.

If she stared at him long enough without blinking, she could almost imagine that he was a painting, a poignant painting set against a red backdrop.

She still had so many questions firing through her head -  _how? when? why? where?_  - but she squashed them all down with force. Now was not the time.

"Who did this?" Snape asked coldly, his tone deep and accusatory.

"I did," came Harry's low tone, strained with regret that was unmistakable to the naked ear. "But, I didn't mean to..." he swallowed thickly, the sound loud in the almost quiet room. The only other sounds were the  _drip drop_  of leaking taps. "I didn't know what the spell would do. I just cast it without thinking... I - I'm  _so_  sorry... he's going to be alright, isn't he?"

Hermione turned her head slowly to look up at him, her arms still wrapped tightly around her knees. She had almost forgotten he was there. She stared at him, long and hard, trying to draw a parallel between the person standing in front of her and her best friend of six years... She couldn't do it. She couldn't associate the two. They looked the same - wild black hair, wire-framed glasses, lightning bolt scar - but they were worlds apart. She didn't know this person. He was a complete stranger to her.

Harry glanced at her, his emerald eyes filled with deep sorrow and, yes, definitely regret. It was as if he felt truly remorseful for what he had done - for what he had done to Draco.

Well, it was too little too late.

"Get out!" she suddenly screamed, almost shocking herself with the intensity of it. " _Leave!_  I don't know why you're still here. You shouldn't be here!... I don't  _want_  you here! And Draco sure as hell wouldn't want you here, either!"

Harry gazed at her in total disbelief, a deep frown puckering his brow. "But... Hermione, I -"

"I said  _LEAVE!_ " she cut him off on a snarl that was so vicious she could hardly believe it came from her own mouth. Her blood was boiling, literally  _boiling,_ and the sheer hatred coursing through her veins was enough to take her breath away. She could only imagine what her face looked like. Going off Harry's half-worried, half-astonished expression, it was deadly.

When he finally turned to leave, Hermione angrily jerked her head away from him, her eyes landing back on Draco's deathly white complexion. She hated Harry in that moment. She hated him  _so._   _fucking_.  _much._  She never thought she could hate someone as much as she hated him. And this was Harry, her supposed best friend. Not anymore though. No.  _No way_. How could he be?... Granted he didn't know about her and Draco, that, she understood, even though she was thinking irrationally at the moment. But, he  _did_  choose to ignore her when she'd yelled at him not to go after the blond. There was no way he hadn't heard her, she was screaming after him for crying out loud, yet he'd  _chosen_  not to listen, he'd  _chosen_  to ignore her, and instead decided to take matters into his own hands. This wasn't unusual for Harry, he was known for being reckless, for being thoughtless, but it was about time he took responsibility for his actions. This had happened far too many times now and she wasn't going to stand back and let him get away with it. No. It was high time he acknowledged that he couldn't just go running head first into situations without knowing at least some of the story. He hadn't even given her a chance to explain. He'd made his own assumptions and ran with them. It was fifth year all over again – Sirius would still be alive if… She abruptly cut the thought off, hating herself a little for even thinking it. This is what it had come to though, this is the dark place he had pushed her to. Right now, she honestly couldn't imagine ever talking to him again. In fact, the way she was currently feeling, she doubted she could even _look_  at him again, because if she did she feared what she might do to him.

She carefully avoided Snape's shrewd gaze and continued to stare at Draco. She knew that the Professor was staring at her, undoubtedly wondering what the hell all that had been about. Or perhaps he'd already come to his own conclusion on the matter and simply wished to convey his thoughts through a judgmental glare, like he so often did. Either way, Hermione would rather remain ignorant. Now was not the time for loaded opinions and confessions. "Are you going to help him? Or are you just going to continue staring at me?" she bit out, her eyes trained on Draco's closed eyelids. This was the second time in less than five minutes that she had spoken out of turn to a Hogwarts Professor. In normal circumstances she would  _never_  speak to a teacher in such a disrespectful manner, but this wasn't a normal situation. This was a situation no one should ever find themselves in, let alone someone her age, so she was finding it quite difficult to care.

Snape didn't so much as let out a grunt of disapproval this time. Instead he lifted his wand up, poised and ready, and pointed it at the blond's chest, an impossibly long incantation falling from his lips. It sounded like a haunting song, dark and utterly compelling. Hermione had never heard anything like it.

After several moments she found herself uncurling from her hunched, protective position on the floor, and began to drift over to get a better look at what was happening to Draco's wounds.

His blood, which had been pooled on the floor only moments before, was now rushing back towards the gashes in his chest in a truly mesmerizing display of magic. It was as if the wounds had turned magnetic and were attracting the iron in his blood, which of course was impossible, but that was how it seemed.

Hermione watched, completely enthralled, as every last drop of Draco's spilled blood re-entered his body and his gashes began to knit back together to form slightly raised scars that criss-crossed their way over his entire chest.

She felt her anger quickly dissipate as sheer awe took over.

Hermione felt it then... Her pendant. It started to pulse again.

She gasped, gripping it in her hand and squeezing. Oh God,  _oh God_ , she could hardly believe it. She thanked every known deity she could think of, which was silly really. Snape was the one who had saved him, she'd just witnessed it with her own two eyes.

She let out a choppy breath, sagging with relief so strong it almost seemed to drain every last bit of energy from her body. She could literally feel the gravitational pull of her exhaustion, but somehow managed to resist it.

She smiled, albeit a little watery, and clasped her hands together in front of her mouth reverently. "Oh, Professor. You did it.  _You actually did it_. You saved him," she breathed softly, reaching out to touch Draco's cheek that, she swore, was already blossoming with colour beneath her fingers. "I can't believe it," she muttered to herself. She hadn't wanted to think it before, she hadn't dared to, but deep down she honestly thought she'd lost him. "He's going to be alright, isn't he?" she suddenly asked, worry evident in her tone. "I mean, there won't be any lasting damaging effects?"

Snape turned to look at her, his eyes narrowed suspiciously. "No," he drawled in his usual fashion. "There won't be any lasting damaging effects, at least not from the spell Potter used. In fact, if he takes dittany immediately, he will barely have any scarring."

"Oh, that's fantastic," Hermione breathed, feeling the weight on her shoulders begin to lift slightly. She reached out a trembling hand and began to stroke Draco's forehead delicately, as if he was made of the finest china.

She should feel elated, she should be jumping up and down with complete and utter joy, but she couldn't let her guard down.  _Not yet_. He was still unconscious, and she knew without a doubt that she wouldn't be able to rest properly until he opened his eyes and told her himself that he was fine,  _that he was OK_. "Why isn't he waking up?" she asked, trying to sound curious instead of scared out of her wits.

She was met with a wall of silence, which had her glancing up, questioningly.

Snape was watching her hand stoke Draco's forehead, his expression incredulous – well, as close to incredulous as Snape could get. It was really just a slight widening of his eyes and a delicate furrowing between his brows.

Hermione snatched her hand away as if suddenly burnt.

_Shit._

She wanted to blame it on her frazzled state of mind and the fact she'd just almost lost Draco, but she'd been slipping up like this for a while now. It was just simply her being stupidly careless, as had become the norm recently. Not that it really mattered anyway, Snape must have already, at the very least _,_ suspected something was going on between her and Draco. Anyone with a brain and reasonable sight could have figured that out.

Snape's nostrils flared and his jaw tensed, but other than that he didn't say a word about her blatant display of compassion and concern towards Draco, and for that she was eternally grateful. She really wasn't in the mood for  _that_  talk, with Snape of all people. Instead he answered her question. "I've put him in a coma of sorts. To wake him up now would be cruel. He'll be in an immense amount of pain. Once I've administered the correct potions to hopefully heal his arm and help manage the pain, I will revive him. I will also need to do some tests, as right now there's just no way of telling how extensive the damage is. The infection could have spread to his organs, which, let's face it, could be dire. But there's no use in worrying about that until we know more."

Hermione nodded in grim understanding, her heart beginning to palpitate with worry, despite Snape telling her not to. She went to touch the blond's face again - she couldn't help it, she just wanted to feel the cold leaving his skin, feel the life thrumming through his veins - but stopped herself at the very last second. "So... his arm. That's definitely something you can fix?" she asked carefully, keeping her eyes firmly on Draco's face. She couldn't look at Snape, she was too scared of what she would find if she did - judgement? disgust?  _Both?_ "He won't lose his arm, will he?"

"Frankly, I don't know," Snape let out a sharp, impatient exhale of air. "He should have come to me sooner. This could have all been avoided if he'd just told me what was going on."

"Perhaps... But maybe he was scared of what you might say," Hermione muttered tonelessly. "Maybe he thought you wouldn't understand. Maybe he felt like he was in this alone and didn't want to burden anyone. Or maybe he just simply didn't trust you..." she sucked in a deep painful breath. "It's unfortunate, but you can't blame him for that."

Hermione was talking to herself more than she was to Snape, he knew it, and she knew it.

She felt so unbelievably guilty. Why had Draco felt like he couldn't tell her? Had she done or said something that would've made him feel that way? She thought back on all the time they'd spent together and tried to figure out if she'd ever inadvertently said something that would've made him think he couldn't trust her... Then she remembered something - the night they'd met in the Room of Requirement,  _way_  back in the beginning. It felt like a lifetime ago now. They had gotten onto the topic of Dark Marks, Hermione had told him that Harry thought he was a Death Eater...

_"I never believed you were a Death Eater. Harry was the one who thought you were. I mean it's not like I didn't try to convince him otherwise, but he was having none of it. You can be hateful at times, Malfoy, but I don't believe you're evil. I would never have let this happen between us if I truly thought you were a Death Eater."_

God, Hermione remembered the dark look he had given her, thinking about it now still gave her shivers.

_"But what if Potter had been right and you had been wrong. What would you have done then?"_

_She gazed back at him without blinking. "I would have walked right out of this room," she answered honestly._

_"And then what?" he pushed. "Would you have gone straight to Dumbledore to tell him that he has a Death Eater living under his roof? Or would you have gone to the Order of the Phoenix instead?"_

She remember how uneasy she'd felt, and confused,  _so very confused_. At the time, she'd had no idea why he was pushing the matter.

_"I don't know. What does it even matter? You're not a Death Eater."_

_"I'm just curious," he stood up and moved to stand in front of her. "What would you have done? You would have gone to Dumbledore, wouldn't you?"_

_"I said I don't know -"_

_"Surely you've thought about it, even if you didn't think I was a Death Eater. There was always a chance after all, you would have been stupid to think otherwise," he continued almost conversationally. "It's always better to be safe than sorry -"_

_"Fine!" she cut him off. "Yes, I probably would have gone to Dumbledore. Happy now? I don't see what knowing this has to achieve. It's absolutely irrelevant."_

Oh God, and there it was.  _Fuck_. Had she said that? Had she really said that?... But that was  _before_ , not  _now!_  She didn't feel that way anymore, surely he knew that?  _Surely he fucking knew that?_  She loved him for Christ's sake... but then again, how was he to know that? She'd only figured it out herself over the Christmas break, and she'd only told him as he lay dying on this godforsaken bathroom floor.  _Fucking hell!_  She remembered how despondent and lost he'd looked in the Room of Requirement and how she'd thought it was strange and couldn't understand his reaction. Jesus... Had he been a Death Eater back then? Had he somehow managed to hide it from her all this time? No, that couldn't be right. _It's impossible_. She would have known. She would have noticed...  _something_.

Hermione brought her hand up to her mouth as she was suddenly overcome with an onslaught of emotion.

This was all her fault. She had made Draco feel like he couldn't tell her. For crying out loud, she had told him that she would turn him into Dumbledore! She couldn't blame him for not opening up to her, who would in his position? God, she was disgusted with herself. Draco had suffered all this time. He'd probably wanted to tell her, but the fear of her turning on him had stopped him. Had he been completely alone, suffering with no one to turn to? Oh, please, no, the thought was almost enough to break her. No one could shoulder that burden alone. Especially not someone like Draco, who had a hard facade, but a delicate soul. She hoped he'd at least told Blaise and Theo.

"I don't fully know what is going on between the two of you -" Snape began slowly, swiftly pulling her from her troubled thoughts, "- but I have an idea."

Hermione opened her mouth to say something. What? She didn't know, she just felt like she needed to say something, _anything._ Snape cut her off before she had the chance though.

" _Don't_ ," he snapped. "I don't want to hear it. You are  _fools,_ both of you. Do you have any idea how much danger you have put yourselves in? This isn't a game. There is a very real war raging outside these walls -"

"I know that, Professor," she interrupted him calmly. "And Draco knows it too, but it doesn't matter now..." she lifted her head and looked him straight in the eye. " _It's too late_."

Hermione spoke the words softly, just a whisper of breath, yet the impact they had was as if she'd screamed them through a  _Sonorus_  Charm.

Snape's eyes widened, his nostrils flared and his jaw tightened. He was furious, there was no doubt about it. He knew exactly what she meant by it being  _too late,_ and he looked so utterly disappointed. He shook his head slowly. "Well, Merlin help you both," he muttered gravely.

Hermione felt his words like a harsh slap to the face. God, he didn't think they'd survive this, did he? He really didn't think they had a chance. That much was obvious, not just in the words themselves, but his tone and the way he looked at her. He actually looked  _sorry_  for her -  _Hermione Granger_. It was so strange to see, but also very sobering. It made everything feel more real all of a sudden.

It was true, she and Draco had been stupid, unfathomably so. They hadn't thought any of it through properly. It was supposed to just be a bit of fun, no-strings sex, but now it was... too late.

 _Too late_.

Snape stood up with a swish of his robes and pointed his wand at Draco's still form, levitating him off the ground.

"Are you taking him to the Hospital Wing?" Hermione asked in a rush, scrabbling to stand up. Her joints screamed in protest and her whole body ached something fierce. She had to steady herself on the wall as her head swam dizzyingly, nearly bringing her back down to her knees.

"No," Snape answered shortly. "No one can know about this. Draco will be taken to his room in the Slytherin dungeons where he will rest and recuperate. If need be, I will have him transferred to a private healer."

"But, in that case, it may take  _weeks_  until he's feeling well enough to go back to classes," Hermione frowned. "What will people think? They will surely wonder where he's gone."

"Don't concern yourself," Snape waved her off. "I will sort it out. No one will ask any questions. In the meantime, I would like for you and Potter to keep your mouths shut.  _No one_  is to know about what happened here tonight, do I make myself clear?"

"Of course," Hermione scowled, feeling more than a little annoyed. What did he take her for? "I wouldn't tell a soul."

"Indeed," he narrowed his eyes. "Potter, on the other hand, is an insolent swine, so I wouldn't put it past him to blab to the whole school."

Hermione was about to defend Harry, but then she remembered how much she hated him at the moment. She knew that Harry wouldn't go around telling anyone about what had happened though, he just wasn't like that, no matter how much Snape liked to believe that he was. Yet, if she was wrong, and for some bizarre reason he decided that this time he wanted to run his mouth off to the entire school, Hermione would be there to put an instant stop to it.

"Trust me," she gritted, her expression darkening. "Harry won't dare say a word."

Snape, who had been guiding Draco's floating form out of the bathroom door, turned to look at her. She thought he was going to say something else scathing, but all he did was smirk. And then he was gone. As was Draco.

* * *

**Amare Est Sentire - To Love Is To Feel.**

**_When the love of your life is near,_ **

**_it is not music you shall hear._ **

**_Not a word or an utter,_ **

**_it shall be a feeling, a little flutter._ **

**_Close to your heart where the diamond rests,_ **

**_you will feel a warming pulse upon your chest._ **

**_Do not startle, it is not a blunder,_ **

**_but something precious, feel its wonder._ **

**_This rare diamond is so unique,_ **

**_it does not need a voice, now hush, hear it speak._ **

**_Not with words, but something else,_ **

**_it shall draw secrets from a hidden shelf._ **

**_Do not fight it, it's meant to be,_ **

**_it will haunt you if you attempt to flee._ **

**_This is your destiny, it's written in the stars,_ **

**_larger than Venus, larger than Mars._ **

**_Now listen carefully, don't make the wrong decision,_ **

**_there are demons lurking, ready to strike with swift precision._ **

**_Hold your love tightly, keep him close,_ **

**_for once he's gone, it's adios._ **

**_Not forever, yet it may as well be,_ **

**_damaged beyond repair? There's no guarantee._ **

**_It will take a long time to get him back,_ **

**_three harrowing years to be exact._ **

Hermione dropped the booklet on top of her bedspread and jumped up to pace the plush dormitory carpet, the maroon fibres pushing up between her bare toes. She knew she shouldn't have read it,  _she just knew it_.

But now that she had, she couldn't stop.

She must have read it a hundred times or more, yet she was still no closer to understanding what it meant. Of course, the part where she was in love with Draco made perfect sense. It was the  _keep him close_...  _it will take a long time to get him back... three harrowing years to be exact._  What the hell did that even mean? Was it a metaphor for something else? Or did it literally mean what it was implying?

She groaned, feeling frustrated. Whatever it meant, she couldn't shake the ever-present dread that had been weighing her down since she'd first read it. It was just another worry to add to the ones that were already mounting up. It wasn't healthy, the stress she was putting herself under, she knew that, but she was powerless to stop it. Also, she was utterly exhausted, which, of course, didn't help matters.

Perhaps her exhaustion was the reason that her usually finely-polished brain was so clouded? Hermione had always prided herself on her ability to look at things objectively, but as shattered as she currently was, she simply  _couldn't do it_. Not when it was so personal. Not when it was about Draco.

It was possible that she was placing too much significance on it. It was just a poem after all. It's not like it was a prophecy or anything equally foreboding. She was likely being ridiculous. She had been put through the wringer these past few weeks, so it was no wonder she was feeling like she was - paranoid, worried, anxious.

Yet, still she couldn't disregard it, because what if it  _did_  mean something?

Right now, she couldn't trust her judgement.

She sighed, rubbing her face with her hands as she tried to get a grip of herself.

At least she now knew why her necklace pulsed whenever Draco was near, it was because she loved him. Her pendant sensed it and would pulse whenever he was in close proximity. Apparently, the longer her heart belonged to Draco, the farther the parameter would reach, and eventually she could be miles away from him and still feel it pulse.

The booklet said that the necklace was linked to Draco's emotions, so it would pulse differently depending on what he's feeling at the time. With practice, Hermione would be able to know exactly which particular emotion he's feeling just by the cadence of the pulses.

Right now, it was motionless and Hermione hated it. Nothing felt right without the comforting pulse of her necklace. She'd only had it a short time, but already felt utterly lost when she couldn't feel its warming presence.

Hermione sighed as she rolled her stiff shoulders and stopped in front of the floor length mirror, taking in her reflection from head to toe. She wore a pair of old faded blue jeans and a plain white t-shirt - one of many that she owned. She glanced at her face, which looked sallow and worn, and wondered how long it had looked like that. She couldn't remember the last time she'd properly looked at herself. She seemed older somehow, she could see it in her eyes and set of her face. There was a weighty darkness in her expression that hadn't been there before.

Everything that had happened with Draco had really taken its toll on her, mentally and physically. It had been days, over a week in fact, since that fateful night in the bathroom, yet she still hadn't heard any news about his condition - was he OK? Had the scars on his chest been fully healed? Had Snape found a cure for his decaying arm? She had no idea what was going on. The only thing she knew for sure was that he was still in the castle and hadn't been transferred to a private healer. That knowledge alone was the only thing stopping her from being completely consumed by despair.

She just wanted to know that he was alright... actually, no _._ That wouldn't be enough. She needed to  _see_  that he was alright, she needed to see it with her own two eyes, and hear him,  _only him_ , tell her that everything was going to be OK. She wouldn't rest until she did.

Unsurprisingly, Hermione had hardly slept since it happened. She could barely eat either, every time she tried she felt like throwing up. It was a torture she wasn't expecting, trying to swallow down food when you had absolutely no appetite whatsoever, but she did it anyway. If only to keep up appearances and not draw any unwanted attention.

She continued to go to classes as normal, like nothing had happened, though she didn't know what transpired in them or had any idea what they were supposed to be learning. It was like she was on auto-pilot, her body did all the right things - took notes, answered any questions directed at her, turned the pages of books - yet her mind was completely absent.

She had effectively shut her friends out. Harry had tried talking to her the day after the incident, but she'd hexed him so thoroughly that he hadn't attempted again since.

Ron? She had no idea what was going on there - did he know what had happened? Had Harry told him? He hadn't tried to talk to her, so either he was furious with her for shacking up the enemy or he didn't know what was going on. The latter was more likely as Ron didn't have the self-restraint needed to not say something to her. He was obviously aware that something was wrong, but even without all the details he'd still chosen Harry's side - not that she was surprised.

Ginny watched her from afar, eyes unreadable, but was yet to confront her face to face. Again, like Ron, Hermione wasn't sure how much she knew. Perhaps she knew nothing, or perhaps she knew everything. Maybe Harry was loose-lipped in the bedroom? She wouldn't know.

Everyone else in Gryffindor house must have sensed something was off because they all gave her a wide berth, which suited her just fine.

In short, Hermione had been coping,  _just_. But it was getting to a point now where she didn't think she could do it much longer. It was too much. The stress and worry was debilitating, and she was finding it increasingly difficult to function properly. Her mind wasn't her own anymore, and her body was worn out.

She pulled her pendant out from beneath her t-shirt and held it in her hand like a delicate flower, watching as the candlelight bounced off the surface of the green diamond.

It was so beautiful. It was by far the most precious thing she owned, and not because it was likely worth more than her parents' house, but because it had been a gift from Draco. For that reason alone she would treasure it for the rest of her days.

Over the past week, she'd often found herself walking around in the dungeons throughout the day, and late at night when she couldn't sleep, craving the pulse of her pendant. Sometimes she would be surprised to find herself there, unable to recall how she'd gotten down to the dungeons when she'd sworn she'd been on the 6th floor only moments before. Despite this, it never failed to please her, as soon as she entered the dungeons it would come alive against her chest, and for a moment she would forget about all her worries because, at the very least, it meant that Draco was still alive. She noticed that the pulse was off though. It was a little too fast and unpredictably jerky. It was strange. If she had to put a name to it, she would say it felt like...  _pain_.

She hated the thought of Draco in pain,  _despised it_ , but it was better than the alternative - the stillness, the nothingness.

God, she wanted to feel it now, she was desperate to feel it against her skin. Perhaps it would feel different this time? She hadn't had a chance to go down to the dungeons today yet, instead she had been hauled up in her dormitory, wallowing in her unhappiness.

Hermione glanced at the clock, it was 2:00 pm.

Now would be the perfect time to go down to the dungeons. It was the first Saturday of the month, February, which meant match day - Slytherin vs Ravenclaw. Everyone would be watching because this particular game had the potential to knock Gryffindor out of the lead - depending on the final score and if the snitch was caught. She probably had a good two hours, at least, until anyone would be making their way back to the castle. That gave her ample time to analyse the pulse of her necklace and hopefully get some insight on how Draco was doing.

Without a moment's pause, she shoved her feet inside her plain white trainers and yanked her coat off its peg, throwing it around her shoulders and hastily pushing her arms through the sleeves. The castle was still bitterly cold and the last thing she needed right now was the flu on top of everything else.

She leaped down the dormitory stairs and sprinted across the empty Gryffindor common room, eager to get to the dungeons as quickly as possible. She charged along the 7th floor corridor, passing paintings, tapestries and statues as she went - one painting of a 17th century witch actually yelled out, demanding that she slow down before she tripped and fell. And a ghost, she didn't know the name of, fell backwards through a wall, startled when rounded a corner at breakneck speed. She bounded down the Grand Staircase in record time and was panting with a God-awful stitch in her side when she arrived in the dungeons.

"Bloody hell," she gasped, leaning against the wall for support as she bent over gripping her side. "I'm so unfit."

There was a distinct sounding snort off to her left, which had her head snapping up in alarm. "Ow," she complained, feeling,  _as well as hearing_ , her neck crack painfully.

"Jesus Christ, Granger," Blaise Zabini laughed. "You almost broke your bloody neck then. I really don't want to be responsible for that, Draco would kill me...  _literally,_ " he threw her a teasing, wide-eyed look.

"Zabini?  _God_ , you scared me half to death," she breathed, bringing her hand up to her racing heart.

"I can see that," he smirked, tilting his head to the side whilst giving her a funny look. "What has you so jumpy?" he asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. Presumably wondering why she was in the dungeons to begin with. "Shouldn't you be in the stands right now, watching the match? I hear if Ravenclaw win, Gryffindor will be knocked out of the top spot."

"To be frank, I couldn't give a shit about Quidditch," she told him as she straightened up and ran her hands down the front of her t-shirt, smoothing away invisible wrinkles. "I really couldn't care less who wins."

"Well, fancy that. It seems you and I have something in common," he smirked. "Bet you never imagined that would ever happen."

"Oh, I don't know. Considering all that's happened over the past five or so months, having something in common with you really isn't that shocking, to be honest," she smiled tightly.

Blaise grinned. "But of course, you're absolutely right."

There was a prolonged beat of silence, where they both simply gazed at each other - Hermione looking a little uncomfortable, and Blaise looking as though he didn't have a single care in the world.

She wanted to ask him how Draco was doing, she  _desperately_  wanted to ask him. She could feel the questions bubbling their way up her throat, fighting to get out, but she stopped herself. Her mouth was what had almost gotten him killed last time. She wouldn't do that to him again. If she'd learned anything from what had happened, it was that she should be more patient, she shouldn't jump to conclusions, and she should just  _keep her mouth shut_. Instead, she brought her hand up to her chest, placing it over her hidden necklace that was pulsing in earnest. For a brief moment she lost herself in the feel of it, forgetting about all her worries and the fact that Blaise was still standing there looking at her rather perplexed. The pulse felt steadier today,  _stronger_ , and she couldn't help the sudden smile that lit up her entire face.

When she opened her eyes, which she hadn't actually realized she'd closed, she found Blaise frowning at her curiously.

 _Shit._ Hermione cleared her throat loudly and quickly masked her face as she dropped her hand to her side. Hopefully he'd just think that she was weird and not question why she was suddenly smiling like a loon.

Despite her efforts and her nonchalant expression, Blaise's calculating dark eyes dropped to the prominent bulge under her T-shirt, just below the hollow of her neck, and widened ever so slightly.

Hermione stiffened, her ocher eyes carefully trained on his. Why was he looking at her like that? Surely he couldn't see her necklace?

She didn't want to make it obvious by glancing down to check, but the longer he stared, the more she couldn't restrain herself, and before she knew it she was looking down.

 _Oh no_.

SHIT! He could bloody see it. Not properly, but her t-shirt was see-through enough that he could make out that there was definitely a necklace under it. She swiftly drew the two halves of her coat together and crossed her arms tightly over them to keep it closed.

Despite her coat now hiding her necklace, Blaise still continued to stare at the point where it rested as if he could see through all her layers of clothing, which was rather disconcerting, to say the least.

She cleared her throat and shuffled in place, feeling more and more uncomfortable the longer he stared.

_Why was he still staring at her like that?_

Hermione was about to ask him as much, when he suddenly spoke.

"When did he give you that?" he asked, his voice so quiet Hermione almost didn't hear him.

"Excuse me?" she asked, brow puckered in a way that hopefully conveyed that she had no idea what he was talking about.

His onyx eyes flicked up to hers, narrowing into slits. "Stupid doesn't suit you, Granger," he told her astutely, his tone dropping an octave. "I'm talking about that beautiful necklace you have hanging around your neck, but of course you already knew that, so let's stop playing silly beggars. When did Draco give it to you?"

What the hell? How on earth could he tell that it was a necklace from Draco? Had Draco shown it to him at some point?

Hermione gave him a narrow-eyed look and opened her mouth to lie, but was abruptly cut off.

"And don't try to tell me you bought it at some antiques market because I know for a fact that this necklace has been in the Malfoy family for  _centuries_ ," Blaise gave her a hard stare.

Wait... _What?!._.. Centuries? _No..._ That's impossible _..._ because that would mean _..._ Oh god...  _No way!_  It couldn't be. Draco wouldn't give her a family heirloom... would he? It was preposterous. What about the booklet that came with it? It did look rather worn if she was being honest... but the poem? It had felt so personal, despite her not being able to fully understand it.

"I'm sorry, but I think you're mistaken -" Hermione began in utter denial, shaking her head sharply as if to accentuate her refusal of the idea that her necklace was a bloody family heirloom. But, yet again, she was swiftly cut off.

"I'm never mistaken," he told her bluntly, his expression arranged in a manner that left no room for argument. "That necklace is a priceless Malfoy family heirloom. I'd bet my left bollock it's the same one I've seen hundreds of times in the Malfoy Manors vault. And trust me, I don't offer my bollock up lightly. I'm rather fond of it, you see," Hermione wrinkled her nose in disgust, she really wasn't in the mood to discuss bollocks, especially Zabini's. "Now, I'll ask again, when did he give it to you?"

Hermione stared at him, chewing anxiously on the inside of her bottom lip.

She had  _so_  many questions – what did it mean that he had given her a family heirloom? Which Malfoy did it last belong to? Whoever it was would surely turn in their grave if they knew that a muggleborn was now in possession of it. Did his parents know? If not, wouldn't they ask where it had gone? Surely they would notice that a  _priceless -_  as Zabini put it - family heirloom was suddenly missing. Although she supposed they had a lot going on at the moment. What with Lucius Malfoy still on the run and all. Perhaps they wouldn't notice?

Hermione still felt a little sceptical though, and rightfully so.

Was Blaise really telling her the truth? Had Draco seriously given her a family heirloom? He could just be pulling her leg, he was a Slytherin after all.

"Today would be nice," he prompted, rolling his eyes impatiently.

Hermione pursed her lips, debating whether or not to answer him, because she certainly didn't have to. Who was he to demand to know when Draco had given it to her? If Draco had wanted him to know, he would have already told him. It was none of his bloody business. She had a mind to tell him to shove off.

But  _God_ , this was a lot to take in. If Draco had given her a family heirloom, it was a big fucking deal... wasn't it?  _Yes_. Yes, it was!... Or maybe it wasn't? Maybe the Malfoys had so many of them they didn't care where they went. Perhaps it didn't mean anything at all and she was blowing this up into something huge as usual. Draco hadn't said anything to her about it. He obviously didn't think it was such a big deal, otherwise he would have mentioned it,  _right?_

Hermione wanted to yell and stomp her foot, but she wasn't four years old, so she refrained from doing so. She was so confused.

She glanced at Blaise, who was now glaring at her, his frustration palpable. After keeping him waiting a little longer, she finally decided to answer him truthfully, because she was certain that he wouldn't drop it until she did. She knew a fellow nosy git when she met one. "Christmas," she sighed tiredly. "He gave it to me at Christmas. It was a gift."

Blaise blinked at her, looking taken aback. "Christmas?...  _Wow_ ," he let out a short bark of a laugh and rubbed a hand over his face. "Well, that's..." he broke off on a sharp intake of breath. " _Wait a minute_..." he hissed, his eyes going wide as saucers.

Hermione froze, her eyes trained on his face.  _Waiting, waiting, waiting_... what was she waiting for?

Blaise stared at a point just above Hermione's head, his eyes wide and very dazed looking. He looked as if he was lost in thought or a memory perhaps. Either that or his brain had malfunctioned.

When a full two minutes passed by without him so much as moving a muscle, Hermione began to feel rather concerned. She was about to ask him if he was alright because the deranged look on his face told her that he definitely wasn't, but then he spoke. Or should she say  _yelled_.

" _FUCK_   _ME!_ "

Hermione flinched at his sudden outburst. "For God's sake, Zabini, what on earth is wrong with you? Was that absolutely necessary?" she tutted angrily.

"Yes!" he bellowed as he started to pace back and forth in front of her, tugging on his ink-black locks. "It  _absolutely_  fucking was. _Fuck_. Draco, gave you that necklace.  _That one._  Not a different one, but  _that_  exact one. Merlin's saggy tits!"

Hermione gazed at him, looking thoroughly bewildered. What the hell was he talking about? "You do realize that you're not making an ounce of sense," she told him, her puzzled look giving way to irritation. "Why are you so shocked that he gave me  _this_  necklace? Were there others or something? I don't understand."

"Oh yes, many others, and bracelets and earrings too. But he didn't give you any of those,  _oh no_ , he gave you  _THAT_  necklace. That one under there," he gestured wildly at Hermione's boobs causing her to frown deeply – the necklace wasn't hanging off her nipples. "Bloody  _fucking_  hell."

"OK," she said slowly, eyeing him like one would a skittish animal. "I'm getting the sense that this is a problem for some reason that completely eludes me. Care to elaborate? Because I'm completely lost."

" _No!_ " he threw his hands up dramatically. "I do not care to  _elaborate_!" he growled theatrically through clenched teeth before reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "This is too much,  _too fucking much._ And, also, none of my sodding business."

"Oh,  _now_  it's none of your business!" Hermione exploded, feeling her irritation unfurling inside her like smoke, sneaking in and infecting every little nook and cranny until she was virtually vibrating with exasperation. "Now when you've opened your trap and made such a big deal out of it! God help me, Zabini, but you better start talking,  _now_ ," she demanded, the unveiled threat in her tone loud and clear.

 _For crying out loud,_  Hermione didn't know what to think. What was so shocking about Draco giving her this necklace? Was it his mother's or something?  _Jesus!_ She felt herself begin to panic at the thought. She could just imagine herself bumping into Draco's mother and her seeing the necklace around Hermione's neck. Would she rip it off? Perhaps decapitating her in the process? It was possible, the chain was thick and rather solid. With enough pulling-force she could probably manage it.

Blaise eyed her speculatively. "I understand your frustration, Granger, but this _really_  isn't my place -"

"Make it your place!" she cut him off, stomping her foot in frustration - so much for not acting like a four year old, but her neck was on the line,  _literally_.

He brought his hand to his chest and leaned away from her, a truly scandalized expression on his face. "Good grief, but do you want me to die, Granger?" he asked her, his voice dropping and taking on a shocked undertone. "Because that's what will happen if Draco finds out I was talking to you about this. He would gut me like a  _fish_ ," he paused for dramatic effect, allowing his words to sink in. "Is that what you want? Are you that monstrous that you would allow my insides to be torn out of me in such a horrific manner? Imagine it, Granger. Little old me, cowering and defenseless, my intestines slipping through my fingers as I try to stuff them back inside my body."

Hermione gazed at him blankly and blinked several times.  _For God's sake_. How was she supposed to deal with him? Now she understood what Draco had meant that time in his dormitory when she'd asked him if Zabini was always so melodramatic, he'd said,  _he's far worse_. "Seriously, Zabini. You are probably the most ridiculous person I've ever met," she told him honestly. "And let me tell you right now,  _this_  type of shit isn't going to work on  _me_. Draco's told me all about you and your thespian ways. Drama Queen! Now spit it out, otherwise  _I'll_  gut you, never mind Draco."

Blaise straightened up from his theatrical slump against the wall and crossed his arms, giving Hermione a thorough once over. "You know, I think I'm starting to understand why Draco likes you so much. It must be your  _dazzling_  personality," he said sarcastically. "It compliments his nicely... that, and you're also rather pleasing on the eyes -  _don't tell him I said that,"_ he added quickly.

Hermione scowled. "Zabini," she warned.

" _Granger_ ," he imitated her threatening tone.

" _Aaarrgghhhh!_  You are so annoying!" she growled, balling her fists at her sides.

"Thank you," he grinned, like it was the highest compliment she could have given him.

She was about to give him a piece of her mind, in good ol' Hermione fashion, but he stopped her with a raised hand.

"I wouldn't waste your breath. I'm not going to tell you," he told her unapologetically. "I'm no Potter or Weasley, I won't yield under your wrath."

_Bastard._

"But... That's not  _fair_ ," she fumed, unable to think up a valid argument and instead making herself sound like a spoiled brat that was refused a lollipop from the corner shop.

"What can I say, some things in life aren't fair, Granger," he shrugged. "Kind of sad that you're only just learning this now."

Wow, she felt like punching him.

"You know, I think I'm starting to understand why you and Draco are best friends," she told him, using his own words against him. "It's because you're exactly alike! A pair of annoying twats!"

He stroked his chin in contemplation. "Yep," he agreed after a few moments. "I won't fight you on that one. That's pretty accurate."

Hermione let out a long-suffering groan.

"Look, I'm not being a prick on purpose," he told her. "I swear. I know it seems like it, but I'm actually doing you a favour. You really ought to hear this from Draco,  _not_  from me. If I told you, you'd regret it straight away. Sorry if that's fuelling your curiosity more, but it's the truth, and I need you to trust me on this one. If it's too much for you to bear, then ask Draco," he suggested calmly with a small shrug, like it was the simplest thing in the world. "But if I were you, I'd wait. He  _will_  tell you eventually, I promise. I mean, he has to," he smiled crookedly. "And it will be  _so_  worth it."

She stared at him, her eyes bright and tormented.  _Fucking hell._ Was he trying to kill her? He knew this would be torture for her, yet he couldn't help throwing a few more logs on the flames of her curiosity, which now just happened to be an out of control inferno.

_How very Slytherin._

What on earth was the deal with her necklace, anyway? She  _really_  wanted to know. There was some story behind it, that much was clear. Blaise was really testing her patience with refusing to tell her, but he was right. She should wait for Draco to tell her on his own terms. After all, she had, not ten minutes ago, vowed to herself to be more patient and keep her mouth shut. She supposed this was a better time than any to do just that. Even if it did nearly kill her in the process. She needed to dispel this conversation with Blaise from her mind, otherwise it would eat her alive and she would break her promise and blab to Draco. "Fine," she acquiesced. "I will wait for Draco to tell me on his own terms. I don't want to push him when he's clearly not ready."

Blaise tilted his head in agreement. "It's for the best."

Hermione went silent, focusing her mind on the steady pulse of her necklace. It was so steady and so even, she was almost certain that Draco was asleep. "Can I just ask you one question?" she muttered tentatively, after long moments of contemplation.

"Sure," Blaise smiled easily, stuffing his hands inside his trouser pockets. "I may not answer it though."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I have a question about the booklet that came with the necklace," she told him, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "Well, the poem, specifically."

"Poem?" Blaise asked, brow puckering.

"Yes, it's on the first few pages," she told him. "It's handwritten, which is strange because the rest of the booklet looks like it was printed."

Blaise's eyes widened slightly in understanding. "Oh, that's not a poem, Granger. That's a prophecy. It changes for each owner. It's a prophecy of your relationship," he grinned and waggled his eyebrows, but Hermione wasn't paying him any attention because her heart had just plummeted to her stomach and she was trying her damn hardest not to throw up.

"A prophecy?" she whispered, her hand reaching out to grasp for some much needed purchase on the wall.

"Yes," he answered, grin fading as he watched her face drain of all colour. "Well, kind of," he continued, a deep frown marring his features. "It's susceptible to change, depending on the decisions you and Draco both make, but the Malfoy ancestors have found it to be fairly accurate. There's documentation on it, kept in the manor library... Why? Is there a problem? What did it say?" he asked, tone deep and urgent. "Did it say something bad? Did it say something was going to happen?"

Hermione stared down the corridor, her breathing quick and shallow. She felt light-headed and spaced out, almost like she was in a dream.

What did it say again?  _Damaged beyond repair... No guarantee..._ Something about three harrowing years to get him back?... back from where?

Hermione's brain abruptly cut the thought off. She couldn't go there, not right now. It didn't mean anything. It wasn't certain. It was susceptible to change, Blaise had just said that. It wouldn't happen. She wouldn't lose Draco, nothing was going to happen to him. They would just have to make sure they changed the course they were currently on. For some reason it was heading in a direction that would see them torn apart,  _for three years_... How had this happened?! What unconscious decisions had they made that would cause this outcome?

She felt herself being shaken harshly, and swiftly came to with a sharp gasp.

"Christ, Granger!" Blaise gritted, his face a mass of fury. Clearly he'd been trying to get her attention for some time. "What the fuck is it?! What did it say?"

Hermione stared at him, swallowing thickly, her throat as dry and rough as sandpaper. "Nothing," she shook her head slowly. "It's nothing," she repeated a second time, hoping to sound more convincing, but falling short.

"It doesn't look like fucking nothing," he hissed, glaring at her fiercely.

"It's OK," she told him, trying her hardest to pull herself together. This was not something she wanted to involve Blaise in. "It's not bad. Everything's fine," she lied smoothly. "I was just shocked that it was a prophecy. I didn't realise, that's all. Don't worry," she offered him a smile, but she wasn't sure he was buying her fake optimism.

Nevertheless, he didn't push the matter. He simply ran his hands over his face and sighed explosively. "Well, as pleasant as this conversation has been," he began sarcastically. "I think we should probably get going."

"Yes," she nodded in agreement, looking thoroughly distracted now, she wanted to get back to her dorm so that she could analyse the poem... no, the  _prophecy,_  some more, perhaps get to the bottom of what it meant. "You're right, I should go," she turned to walk back towards the stairs that lead up to the entrance hall, so lost in her thoughts that she didn't even say goodbye.

"Granger?" he sighed tiredly, squeezing his eyes shut and pushing his thumb and forefinger into the inner corners. "Where on earth are you going?"

"Huh?" she asked, turning around, looking dazed and confused.

"Where are you going," he repeated slowly, like he was talking to an infant. "Slytherin dorms are this way," he thrust his arm out to indicate the way, which just happened to be the opposite direction she was walking.

"What?" she asked stupidly, not grasping what he was getting at in the slightest.

Blaise rolled his eyes. "I assume the reason you came down here in the first place is because you were hoping to see Draco. Am I correct?"

"Oh," she breathed, straightening up. "Yes, yes. I mean... sort of," she unconsciously reached up and gripped her necklace.

Blaise's eyes dropped to her hand and his face smoothed into a look of understanding. "Ah, your necklace. Well, I can do you one better. I'll take you to him," he offered. "That is, if you want to see him, of course?" he raised his brows questioningly, a teasing glint in his eyes.

 _That is if you want to see him?..._ Was he for real? Of course she bloody did!

"Are you joking? YES!" she laughed, all thoughts of the prophecy fleeing her mind at once to be replaced with the prospect of finally seeing Draco, after what felt like an age. She couldn't wait to lay her eyes on him, to simply see him awake and gazing at her, because then she would know that he was alright. She had been plagued by visions and nightmares of his lifeless, bloodied form for the past week. She hoped that seeing him looking alive and well would put a stop to them.

Blaise chuckled at her look of excitement. "That's good, because I wasn't looking forward to telling him that I'd seen you and not brought you back with me."

She tilted her head to the side curiously. "Why, would that have upset him?" she asked, trying to feign a cool sort of casualness, which, to be frank, was bloody hard, seeing as _'cool'_  and  _'calm'_  weren't in her arsenal of personality traits. "You know, if you didn't bring me back with you," she added for clarification.

" _Upset him?_ " he exclaimed. "Granger, there would be blood drawn - definitely mine."

Hermione's smile was slow and full of the type of gooey shit that usually made her huff in revulsion when she saw it on other people's faces. She knew she shouldn't be surprised that Draco wanted to see her, not really. But after everything that had happened, she wasn't sure how he'd be feeling. Was he angry with her for what Harry did? Did he perhaps blame her for everything that happened? After all, it wouldn't have happened if she hadn't gone looking for him. Maybe he only wanted to see her because he planned to end things with her? Harry knew too much now, so it was highly possible.

Regardless, he wanted to see her, so that was as good a start as any. She wouldn't let  _'what if's'_  dampen her mood now - see, she was learning.

"You two are disgusting," Blaise told her, scrunching up his face and looking thoroughly repulsed. "Please stop smiling like that, otherwise I'll throw up."

"Oh _stop_ ," she grinned, giving him a playful shove.

"No, Granger,  _you_  stop," he complained, shoving her back.

"Blaise," she said turning to look at him as they made their way down the corridor towards the Slytherin dungeons. "I'd really like it if you'd start calling me Hermione."

He rolled his eyes. "Fine, if I must," he sounded putout, but his devilish wink told her that he was only teasing.

They walked in companionable silence for a few moments until Blaise cleared his throat. "Hermione?" he began tentatively. "Seeing as we are now on a first name basis and all, I was wondering if you would do me a favour?"

Hermione's brows shot up in surprise. "Yes, of course... as long as it's not illegal," she added hastily.

"No, it's not illegal," he smirked, looking wickedly amused. "I'm saving  _those_  favours for when we know each other a little better."

"Oh god," she muttered, glancing up to the ceiling.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding. No, this is about... Luna," he told her, shoving his hands in his pockets and quickly glancing away to look anywhere except at Hermione.

" _Luna?!_ " she exclaimed, baffled as to why Luna had anything to do with his favour.

"Yes, Luna," he sucked in a deep breath and then released it in a slow even stream. "Will you help me?" he turned to look at her his dark eyes shining with a sincerity she didn't think was possible.

Before Hermione even realised what she was doing she was agreeing. "Yes, of course. Tell me what I can do."

* * *

"Here we are," Blaise said with a flourish, stopping outside the dormitory he shared with Draco and Theo, obviously not knowing that Hermione had already been there once before. "I just wanted to say thank you for your advice. I will definitely take it under consideration. I mean, I have no choice, really, Draco and Theo have been no help. They are a useless pair of tossers."

Hermione smiled. "It's no problem. I'm sure it will all work out perfectly. From what you've told me, it sounds like there's already something there. You just need to relax and be yourself. Don't worry about how your last talk went. I assure you, Luna is the most laid-back person ever. She doesn't judge, in fact, she's probably already forgotten about it."

Blaise grimaced like he wasn't so sure. "I hope you're right. Anyway, you better get in there, Theo should still be watching the match, so you two will have an hour alone, at least. I'll try to give you more time if I can."

Hermione tried to nod in understanding, but it was stiff and jerky at best, her nerves clearly getting better of her.

Oh god. This was it. She was finally going to see Draco.

She took several deep calming breaths and reached her hand up to smooth down any frizzy bits of hair.

Blaise smirked. "You look  _fine_. Trust me, Draco wouldn't care if you walked in looking like you'd been dragged through a hedge backwards."

Hermione smirked. "Oh, I think he would, but I appreciate the sentiment."

"No, he really wouldn't. You haven't seen him this past week..." he trailed off, pressing his lips together like perhaps he thought he'd said too much. "Just be patient with him, please... if you can. He's feeling lost right now, so he's lashing out at everyone, but that's just the way he is. It's how he deals with things. It doesn't mean he doesn't want you. Don't let him push you away."

At some point during Blaise's rather candid speech, Hermione's smirk had faded to be replaced with a look of apprehension. Blaise knew this wasn't going to be easy for either of them - of course it wasn't - life alternating situations such as this usually weren't. But he'd taken a moment to reassure her and let her know his friend cared about her despite what he may say. For that she was so unbelievably grateful.

Blaise nodded at her once as he turned to walk away, and Hermione was left standing in the corridor alone, outside the door which lead to Draco.

She was nervous,  _so unbelievably nervous_. Her skin felt strange, like electricity was dancing along the surface, her palms were sweaty and her stomach was in knots.

She wondered whether what Blaise had said earlier, about blood being drawn if he didn't bring her back with him, was a lie? A ploy to get her down here? In the light of what he'd just said, it definitely seemed that way. Maybe he was sick of Draco's attitude and hoped Hermione could sort it out?

Hermione almost felt like turning and running away, purely because not knowing how this was going to pan out was giving her severe anxiety. Would he yell at her to get out? Would he beg her to stay? Would he completely ignore her and pretend that she wasn't there?

She supposed there was no point in running, she was here now, and she wasn't a coward, despite how stressed she felt about the whole situation. After all, this was Draco,  _her Draco_. And if what Blaise said was true, then he needed her, whether he knew it or not.

Without wasting another moment, Hermione reached out and turned the door handle.

* * *

It took a minute for Hermione's eyes to adjust to the lighting in the room, it wasn't dark as such, but the light in here was significantly subdued compared to the brightness of the corridor.

Hermione breathed in deeply through her nose, pulling the familiar and alluring scent of Draco's cologne through her nostrils. Out of all the smells in the room, _this_ is what stood out to her the most. It drew her in like a beacon and sent her on a tailspin through glorious memories and overwhelming feelings. She knew that the sense of smell was closely linked to memory, yet it always amazed her how a single whiff of Draco's signature scent could evoke so many emotions and memories of time spent together. It was intoxicating.

"Blaise?" came Draco's muffled voice, followed by what sounded like rustling bed sheets. "What time is it?"

Hermione froze part way into the dormitory, her heart picking up and thumping an uneven pattern on the inside of her chest. She couldn't quite describe how hearing his voice made her feel - happy? sad? relieved? she wasn't quite sure. She could just feel a jumbled mass of emotions washing over her in giant, all-consuming waves. She guessed it was because there had been this morbid part of her brain that, over past week, had been telling her she'd never hear his voice again. But here it was, strong and so achingly familiar, if not a little bit groggy. It was like music to her ears.

"Blaise?" he repeated impatiently. "Is that you? What are you doing?"

She could see him clearly now, across the other side of the room. He was lying shirtless in his bed, the duvet riding low on his hips, and his right arm thrown carelessly over his eyes in a way that told her he'd just woken up from a nap.

" _Blaise_ ," he groaned. "Don't be a prick, you know I didn't mean what I said earlier -" he broke off as he turned his head towards her, his arm sliding back from his face.

As soon as his eyes landed on her, Hermione was rooted to the spot, unable to move, unable to breathe, unable to do anything except stare back at him.

He didn't say anything to her and he didn't attempt to move or sit up, he simply stayed exactly where he was - horizontal, with his right arm bent above his head and his left, which she noticed was bandaged all the way up to his shoulder, resting across his bare stomach.

He looked good,  _really good_ , much better than she had expected him to. His skin was pale, but the normal pale she was accustomed to seeing. It was healthy and had its usual glow about it, so different to the grey, unnaturally pasty complexion he'd had the last time she'd seen him.

He was clean now too,  _of course_ , no blood staining his skin or matting his blond hair, no bruises or deep gruesome gashes to be seen. It was hard to believe that the man in front of her was the same broken man she'd cried over on the bathroom floor only a week ago. He was a blissful sight to behold, a picture of health and perfection. Hermione wanted to burn the image of him behind her eyelids in hopes that it would override the nightmarish images that, as of late, had been haunting her day and night.

Suddenly, unaware that she had moved, Hermione found herself next to his bed, standing over him and staring down into his intense silver eyes. They were lovely and clear, no longer bloodshot, the whites bright and well-rested. But - as she had mostly come to expect - they were utterly unreadable.

She couldn't tell if he was happy to see her, or if he wanted her to get the fuck out.

She licked her dry lips and stiffened her spine in preparation for either outcome. "Hi," she said tentatively, nervously picking at a stray thread on the sleeve of her coat.

Her voice seemed to break the spell they had been put under, because Draco released a deep breath that he had apparently been holding, and turned his head sharply away from her. "Why are you here?" he asked, looking up at the underside of his canopy, not so much in an unfriendly manner, but it didn't make her feel warm and welcome, either.

How did she answer that? She assumed it was pretty obvious why she was there. "I'm here to see you," she muttered, swallowing deeply.

"Well, now you've seen me," he gritted, and then he flipped over onto his side, effectively turning his back on her. The _bye_  didn't need to be voiced, it was loud and clear in his tone that he didn't want her there.

Hermione stared at the back of his head and pressed her lips together, her throat tightening with the unavoidable urge to cry.

 _No_. This was not how this was supposed to go. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Their eyes were meant to meet and everything else - all the worry, stress, anger and regret - was supposed to melt away like snow in the rain. He wasn't supposed to dismiss her like this, he wasn't supposed to turn his back on her.

"Draco -" she began, her voice thick with unshed tears.

"I don't need to hear it, Hermione," he told her, his tone taking on an angry, biting edge. "I know what you think of me. Trust me, I've thought the same, if not worse. I'm a monster, I get it. You don't need to tell me how much of an unfathomable disappointment I am. I'm well aware of it - have been for some time now. If the reason you came down here is to sate your curiosity and find out if I'm still alive, well... as you can clearly see, I am. Apparently, Perfect Potter isn't so perfect after all, he couldn't even finish me off properly," he snorted derisively. Although Hermione couldn't see his face, she could tell by his stiff tone that he was curling his lips in that scornful way he'd mastered. "What a fucking joke, and he's the one that's supposed to be saving us from the Dark Lord. Just go, Hermione. Get out of here and get on with your life."

Hermione stood perfectly still, trying to digest all that he had said... it was difficult, she wasn't going to lie, because none of it made  _any fucking sense_. What on earth was he talking about? A monster? She didn't think he was a monster. And it hurt her beyond words to hear him talk about himself in such a disparaging manner. Is that really what he thought of himself? It was inconceivable.

"Don't worry," he said when she still hadn't moved or said anything in response. "Nothing's going to happen to Potter. I'm not going to retaliate or anything. I deserved what I got. As far as I'm concerned, it was fair game. I can't promise that he won't have to answer to Blaise and Theo though, they were... displeased, to say the least. I have told them to stay out of it, whether they listen or not is another story."

Hermione's eyes narrowed and her fists tightened at her sides as she felt hot rage unfurl in her chest like  _Fiendfyre_. "What did you just say?" she asked in a voice so low, and so chilling, it made Draco turn around and glance at her over his shoulder, a deep confused frown marring his features. " _You_... I can't  _believe_..." she was so angry she couldn't even get her words out properly. "Don't  _EVER_  let me hear you say that again, do you understand?" she pointed her finger at him, her chest heaving with barely controlled wrath.

Draco scrunched up his face. "Don't say what again?" he asked, sounding completely baffled. He struggled into a sitting position and turned to fully face her. Hermione realized then that, despite his outward appearance, he still wasn't fully healed yet. "What are you talking about? I said I  _wouldn't_  hurt Potter -"

"FUCK, POTTER!" she suddenly roared, her fury finally getting the better of her. Draco gaped at her, looking thoroughly taken aback. "He's lucky  _I_  didn't kill him after what he did to you! Do you honestly think you  _deserved_  what he did to you? Have you lost your fucking mind? You died, Draco. You fucking  _died,_ " her voice cracked on the last word and tears began to fall down her cheeks unchecked. Draco seemed at a loss for words, he simply stared at her, blinking in stunned silence. Was he shocked that she was angry with Harry and not him? It seemed crazy that he would be, but looking at it from his perspective, why  _wouldn't_  he be shocked? He had no reason to think Hermione would be on his side. "I almost lost you. You literally bled out in front of me and there was absolutely  _nothing_  I could do about it! Do you have any idea what that feels like? Can you even comprehend it?! You  _stupid_  bastard! It would have  _killed_  me if Snape hadn't been able to bring you back," she fell to her knees on the floor and cupped her face in her hands as great heaving sobs wracked her small frame.

It had all finally caught up to her - the grief, the trauma, the gravity of the Draco-less existence she had almost found herself in. To hear him say that he'd deserved the horrific way in which he was struck down and almost murdered, was too much, it was unthinkable… and yet, she understood, she understood completely, and because she did it made her heartache that much more unbearable. For him to think that he deserved such viscous treatment meant that he had regrets, it meant he felt terrible and most likely guilty about the dark secret he'd been harbouring. Draco wasn't a monster, like he'd so callously labelled himself, he was far from it. The fact that he felt any compassion at all proved otherwise.

Hermione felt strong arms wrapping around her shoulders before she was being pulled into a tight embrace. " _Fuck._  Hermione... please don't cry."

She buried her face in his chest and wound her arms around his waist, squeezing him so tightly it actually hurt her arms. "You are  _not_  a monster," she cried into his chest, her tears wetting his skin. " _You're not_. If you were, you wouldn't care as much as you do, you wouldn't feel like you deserve to die. You  _don't_  deserve to die Draco, please listen to me, you have to believe it. You can't think like that," she broke off into another round of sobs, her fingers scrabbling at his naked back as she tried to pull herself closer to him, even though she was virtually as close as she could get. She wanted to fuse herself to him, crawl on top of him and never let him go. She felt helpless, she didn't know what to say to him to ease his suffering. Right now, she feared nothing she said would do any good.

"Shhhh," he hushed her, rocking her backwards and forwards. It was ridiculous that he was comforting her. Shouldn't it be the other way around? "I didn't mean to upset you. I just... I just -" he broke off, unable to finish the sentence.

Hermione glanced up at him, her cheek pressed firmly against his chest. "You what?" she pushed, her breath catching in her throat.

Draco reached up and ran his hand over his face, pressing his thumb and forefinger into his closed eyelids. He shook his head firmly - in refusal to answer? She didn't know.

Hermione carefully pulled his hand away from his face and their gazes met - cinnamon to silver. They had so much to talk about, so many hurdles to get over, but she guessed none of it mattered if he didn't want to be with her anymore. The thought was crushing, yet she had to ask, even though his answer had the potential to break her heart irreparably. "Do you still want me?" she breathed the words, a delicate whisper that was as fragile as fine crystal.

He stared at her fiercely, a small muscle jumping in his jaw as he clenched his teeth together.

She had no idea what he was thinking. She had thought that perhaps over time she'd get better at deciphering what was going through his mind by reading his mystifying expressions, but, as usual, they were about as hard to crack as the Dorabella cipher. Her necklace wasn't giving anything away, either. It was fluctuating between rapid vibrations and gentle pulses.

"Draco," she unwrapped her arms from around his waist, even though it pained her to do so, and sat up so that she was eye level with him. "Do you want me or not?" she pressed, tone dropping several octaves. Why was she pushing this? Wasn't it better not to know? - At least for now. He needed help, he needed  _her_  help, and that just about trumped everything else at the moment. Besides, could she still help him if she knew he didn't want to be with her anymore?... Yes, yes she could, because she loved him. Draco not wanting to be with her wouldn't change that, it wouldn't suddenly make her fall out of love with him. Sadly, it didn't work that way. Despite all this though, she still couldn't drop it.  _She had to know_. Was that selfish of her? Was she setting herself up for massive disappoint and further heartache? Maybe, but she was human and just happened to be the kind of human that liked to torture herself.

Draco continued to stare at her, his pupils dilating and almost swallowing all the silver. He looked conflicted, _so conflicted_ , like a battle was raging inside his head.

Was he conflicted because he didn't want to be with her, but didn't want to hurt her feelings? Or was he conflicted because he  _did_  want to be her, but couldn't see how they could make it work without being killed?

"Look," Hermione began calmly, even though she felt like an anxious mess. Internally she was cursing herself for not having the willpower to drop it. She reached out to tenderly rest her hand on his good shoulder. "Forget about everything else -"

" _What?_  Forget that I'm a  _Death Eater?_ " he suddenly hissed, both his expression and voice clearly conveying his incredulity. He swiftly pushed her hand away and struggled into a standing position. "It isn't as simple as that, Hermione. You have no idea what is going on -"

"I know, I know," she stood up, clasping her hands together in front of her mouth. "And for that, I'm  _so_  sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel like you couldn't talk to me. I feel terrible about it -"

"What?" he snapped, face scrunching up in confusion. "What the fuck are you talking about? What do you have to feel terrible about?"

What does she have to feel terrible about? Was he serious?

She squeezed her eyes shut, willing her tears to stay away, they weren't helping matters, they were only hindering. "I told you once, in the Room of Requirement, that I would turn you in to Dumbledore if I found out you were a Death Eater. I know that's why you didn't tell me. And I don't blame you, I really don't. I'm just...  _I'm so sorry_. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you when you clearly needed someone."

" _Christ_ , Hermione," he gritted, sitting down heavily on the edge of his bed and leaning over to rest his head in his hands. "You are  _unbelievable!_  You find out I'm a Death Eater and I've been hiding it from you for  _months,_  throughout our whole relationship _,_ yet you still somehow find a way to blame yourself? Are you fucking serious?" he looked up at her, his grey eyes as wild as a storm.

Hermione gazed at him, blinking rapidly, unable to conjure up a single coherent thought.

"You've done nothing wrong!" he exploded, throwing his good arm up in the air. " _I'm_  the Death Eater,  _I'm_  the one that's in the wrong here,  _not you!"_ he let out a frustrated growl. "I wanted to tell you,  _I did_ , I wanted to tell you  _so_  many times, but I was selfish.  _That's me._  I'm a selfish bastard! I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to hate me. I couldn't stand the thought of seeing the look of revulsion on your face and the disappointment in your eyes when I told you what I've done! It had nothing to do with whether you went to Dumbledore or not."

"Draco, _For God's sake_ , please understand that I don't hate you," she stepped towards him, her hands outstretched, ready to comfort him. "I could never, no matter what you did -"

"Just stop," he abruptly cut her off and stood up, his hand coming up to scrub his face. " _Please,_  just stop. I don't deserve you, Hermione, I never have. You seem to think that you can simply forgive and forget. But you don't know the whole story yet, you don't even know half of it -"

"It doesn't matter," she told him in a rush, her brows drawing together. He was trying to push her away. He was trying to make her hate him. It wouldn't work though.  _It wouldn't_. Why wasn't he listening to her?!

He glared at her, his face twisting into a look of contempt. "I was the one who gave the necklace to Katie Bell," he confessed coldly.

Hermione, who had begun pacing restlessly, froze and turned to gaze at him. _Oh no._  She swallowed thickly. "I... Well, you were ordered to do that... you must have been."

Draco sneered at her. "I poisoned Weasley," he told her brutally, his eyes narrowed into dangerous slits.

As the final syllable left his mouth, all the air in the room seemed to vanish, and she felt darkness pressing in on her from all sides. No. He did not just say that. He's not the reason Ron was poisoned. No, no, no, no,  _NO_. She blindly reached out behind her, searching for the bedside table. When she found it, she leaned heavily against it, trying her hardest not to succumb to the oppressive presence that was still lurking close by, waiting, waiting.

"See," he muttered tonelessly. "I told you. I'm a monster. Do you see it now?"

Hermione stared at the emerald carpet, her mind whirling too fast for her to focus on one specific thing. She didn't know what to say to him, she didn't know how to approach this unimaginable situation she'd suddenly found herself in.

She took several deep breaths in an attempt to calm herself. She needed to think rationally. There was more to the story than this, there had to be. It didn't make any sense. There was no way it was as black and white as Draco was implying it was. Why Ron?... It didn't...  _wait_... " _Oh_ ," she breathed aloud. "Katie and Ron weren't the intended targets."

Hermione glanced up at him, and suddenly everything began to click into place. She remembered Katie saying that after she was cursed, all she could remember was that she was supposed to give the necklace to Dumbledore. And Harry had told her that Slughorn had mentioned he was saving the mead to give to Dumbledore for a Christmas present, but he'd changed his mind last minute and decided to share it with Harry and Ron. Of course she already knew that someone was out to get Dumbledore, it just hadn't occurred to her that it was a student - that it was Draco. The two hadn't seemed connected, but now she realised that was foolish of her. She had her rose-tinted glasses on where Draco was concerned, that's for sure. "It's Dumbledore," she felt a throb begin to pulse in her temples. " _You're_  the one that's trying to kill him."

" _Yes_ ," Draco admitted, his tongue flicking out to wet his bottom lip. "It's one of my tasks - kill the headmaster. Don't you see, Hermione? I'm going to be a murderer. I've already nearly killed two people, one of them your best friend. How can you stand to be in the same room as me? Let alone look at me."

Hermione gazed at him, her eyes skating over his high cheekbones and sharp chiselled jaw. His eyes had darkened to gunmetal grey, something that occurred whenever he was angry or upset. He had a stubborn expression on his face that, despite the awful situation, Hermione found strangely amusing. It was ridiculous, none of this was funny, not in the slightest, but that look... It was so him,  _so Draco_  - eyes narrowed in his usual obstinate manner, his bow-shaped lips pressed together resolutely.

Perhaps she was losing her mind?

"It doesn't matter," she told him simply, repeating her words from earlier. "I told you before that nothing you did could make me hate you, and I meant it. But, Draco, I'm not stupid. There's obviously more to the story that you're not telling me." Hermione was absolutely certain there was, she just didn't know  _how_  much more. "I'm not condoning what you've done, but it was an accident, Draco. You didn't mean to hurt Katie and Ron. Besides, they're OK. They made a full recovery. They're  _fine_."

He snorted humorlessly. "Are you trying to reassure yourself, or me?" he asked, sneering as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"I'm not trying to reassure anyone," she scowled, unconsciously crossing her own arms to mirror his stance. "It's the truth. You  _didn't_  mean to hurt them."

Draco threw her a disbelieving look. "I may not have meant to hurt them, Hermione, but I have every intention of hurting Dumbledore. Or have you forgotten about that part already?" he threw her a thoroughly frustrated look. "Listen to me very carefully. I'm going to kill Dumbledore.  _Soon_. Make no mistake."

"Fine! You're going to kill Dumbledore. I get it. It still doesn't change anything.  _It. doesn't. matter_ ," she iterated through gritted teeth. And the shocking thing was that it actually  _didn't_. It didn't matter one bit, because she was in this now, shoulder deep, and nothing Draco did, or said, would change that. They would figure something out so that he didn't have to kill Dumbledore, there had to be some way around it. Draco was just being pessimistic, he was saying anything he could to push her away.

"You're fucking insane! Of course it  _matters_ ," he spat angrily. "But you haven't even heard the best part yet. Do you want to know the real reason I've been disappearing into the Room of Hidden Things for hours at a time?"

Hermione didn't answer him, she simply gazed at him, her expression neutral.

Draco shrugged in the face of her stoic demeanor. "Regardless of if you want me to or not, I'm going to tell you," he began to pace in front of her, his hand clutched to his side as pain colored his expression.

It annoyed her that he was putting himself in unnecessary pain, but she didn't try to stop him. She knew nothing she said would make him sit down. She also didn't want to interrupt him when he was finally opening up to her, so she remained silent and waited patiently for him to talk. She needed to get to the bottom of this, she needed to know exactly what was going on, and find out what Voldemort had ordered him to do. Until she knew the whole story, she couldn't help him.

"There's a cabinet in the Room of Hidden Things," he began after a long stretch of silence and released a deep steadying breath. "A vanishing cabinet, to be precise."

Hermione listened, her eyes following him back and forth, taking in the long, lean length of his body. She couldn't help but notice the way his pajama bottoms sat low on his hips and the way his muscles moved beneath his skin.

"It's one of a pair, the other is located in Borgin and Burkes on Knock-turn Alley," he ran his right hand through his blond hair, looking unusually frazzled. "The one here at Hogwarts is broken, my task is to fix it," he stopped pacing and turned to look at her grimly.

Hermione gazed back at him expectantly, waiting for him to continue, but half a minute past by and he didn't utter a word of further explanation. "What? Is that it?" she frowned, dropping her arms to her sides. "You have to fix a cabinet?"

"Yes," he nodded, staring fixedly at a point just above her left shoulder. "When both are working correctly they act as a passage - a passage between the two places they're located. Don't you get it yet? My task is to fix it so that the Death Eaters can get into the castle and take it over."

It took a moment for his words to register in her brain, but when they did, Hermione's heart, which was already in a fragile condition, plummeted to floor. No. _No_.

Draco continued to explain his task in great detail, all the issues he'd had with fixing it, how Blaise and Theo were now helping him, and so on, but she wasn't listening. Her mind was still stuck on the fact that he was going to let  _Death Eaters_  into the castle.

"Draco," she raised her voice above his and he immediately stopped talking. "You can't... You can't let them in here. Are you crazy? What about the younger children? They won't be able to defend themselves.  _You can't do this_."

Draco blinked at her, his face devoid of all emotion. "Yes, I can, Hermione. I can and I will," he told her bluntly,  _ruthlessly_.

Hermione's first instinct was to lash out at him, scream at him,  _shake him_. But then a horrible thought hit her. "Oh God, he's holding something over you, isn't he?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly. "He's  _blackmailing_  you. He must be!"

Draco swallowed deeply and pressed his lips together, his eyes flitting away from hers. He looked high-strung and extremely agitated. She'd be lying if she said it didn't worry her, she had never seen him like this, so unhinged.

" _Draco_ ," she took several long strides towards him and gripped his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her. "Please, don't shut me out now. Just tell me, what is it?" she pleaded. "What's he done?"

Draco's grey eyes met hers and she gasped. They looked so troubled, so desolate, so empty... Shit, it must be bad.

" _Don't_ ," he hissed, gripping her wrists and attempting to pull her hands away from his face. "I've already told you too much, just leave it."

Hermione tightened her grip, her fingers digging painfully into his jaw. " _Tell me,_ " she demanded, fear making her tone high and sharp.

He must have realized that she wasn't going to let it go, because his arms dropped to his sides and his body sagged in resignation.

Hermione carefully loosened her harsh grip and began to rub soothing circles on his cheek with her thumb. "It's OK," she murmured. "You can tell me. I will help you through this, I promise. I'm not going anywhere. We will work this out together, but you have to tell me -"

"My mother," he admitted thickly, squeezing his eyes closed as if he wanted to hide the emotion that suddenly shone in their depths. "He has her."

Hermione's eyes fell closed as dread wormed its way inside her and dug its claws into her chest. No.  _No_. How did this happen?  _How did this fucking happen?!_  "It's OK," she rushed to soothe him, putting her own panic aside for the moment. She pulled his head down to her chest and ran her fingers through his hair. "It's OK. We'll fix this. We'll -"

Draco suddenly pushed away from her and straightened up. He drew in a shaky, long deep breath and bowed his head as he pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. Hermione watched him for several agonizing moments, caught between the urge to go to him, arms wide open, ready to calm and protect him, but knowing deep in her heart that she should keep her distance and stay exactly where she was. She knew he wouldn't accept her comfort and sympathy right now, knowing Draco, he was likely feeling horribly exposed and vulnerable - something he despised.

His frame remained solid and no noise escaped his lips, but when he eventually pulled his hands away from his eyes, they were bloodshot and red-rimmed, and it just about broke her heart. "There's nothing we can do except complete the tasks," he said, as if there hadn't been a long pause in their conversation, as if he hadn't just been crying out of worry and despair for his mother. "Trust me, I've thought it through long and hard," he sniffed and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. "He's taken over Malfoy Manor, there's no way I can get her out, not without getting us both killed in the process."

Hermione swallowed deeply, her brain working overtime, trying to catch up and digest this new bit of information. "He's taken over Malfoy manor?" she brought her hand up to her mouth as shock set in. "When?"

"About seven months ago," he answered with an explosive sigh. "Although it feels like a lifetime now. I can't quite explain what it's like living under the same roof as  _him,_ it's something I wouldn't wish upon my worst enemy."

The dark look on Draco's face sent a shiver down Hermione's spine.

 _Fucking hell._ All this time. All this time Voldemort had been living in Malfoy Manor, which meant Draco had probably taken the Dark Mark back then, and ultimately meant that Draco's mother had been held in captivity just as long. The gravity of it all was really starting to set in now, but Hermione pushed it back and stiffened her spine, her resolve hardening into something solid and tangible as she prepared herself for another battle.

"I can't even begin to imagine how hard this has been for you, Draco," she told him, reaching out to take his right hand and squeezing it. "But you don't need to shoulder this alone anymore. I'm here for you. I will help you. We will get through this – _together_  - I promise."

Draco shook his head harshly. "Hermione,  _no_. I can't let you do this! Why are you pushing it? I've told you everything now, so you know the gravity of the situation," his whole body seemed to be wound tight, his muscles tense with anger and frustration. It made Hermione want to scream and then strangle him - or perhaps do both at the same time. Why on earth did he have to be so difficult? "This isn't your fight. It's dangerous and I don't want you anywhere near it. Please, just see it from my perspective. You need to run while you still can, and never look back."

"Draco, stop being ridiculous. Where do you suppose I run to? This  _is_  my fight, or have you forgotten that I'm a Muggle-born? I'm deep in this, whether you want me to be or not. I'm not going anywhere. And for your information, I  _can_  see it from your perspective, it's you who can't see it from mine," she told him firmly, crossing her arms and thrusting her hip out in her best no-nonsense stance. She understood his concern, but she needed to make it clear that he was wasting his breath. Did he really think he could persuade her to run and hide?

"For Christ's sake, Hermione," he growled. "Stop being such a pain in the arse! You know for a fact that it's infinitely more dangerous if you stick by me," he began to pace back and forth again, clutching his side, and Hermione rolled her eyes in annoyance. "Why aren't you taking this seriously? What if he finds out about us? He would hunt you down and torture you."

"I' am taking this seriously, you daft git!" she yelled back. "And for God's sake, will you sit down before you injure yourself further?" he glared at her in response and continued to pace.  _Difficult sod_. She sighed. "So what if I'm in more danger? You can't think like that, you can't live life on  _what if's._ There's no way of knowing what's going to happen to me. I could die tomorrow for all we know, perhaps I'll fall down the Grand Staircase and break my neck, or maybe I'll contract an incurable disease."

"Oh, that's great," he huffed angrily. "Just make a fucking joke about it why don't you. You see, this is exactly the problem. You don't care about getting hurt, but do you know how I'll feel if something happens to you?..." he trailed off, stopping in front of her, his large form towering over her shorter frame. "Death doesn't happen to you, Hermione, it happens to everyone around you, to all the people you leave standing at your funeral, trying to figure out how they're going to live the rest of their lives without you in it -"

"But what about you? What if you die? Do you not think I won't feel the exact same way?" she threw her hands up in sheer exasperation. "My place is by your side! I can't lose you again, Draco. I  _won't_  lose you. Stop trying to push me away."

Draco shook his head sadly. "The loss people would feel by your death would be much greater than mine. Think about your family, your friends - Potter and Weasley. They need you. How the fuck is Potter going to save the world if you aren't there to help him?" he let out a short ironic bark of laughter, "because he sure as fuck can't do it on his own.  _Fucking useless twat_."

 _"_ What about me! What about what I need?" she countered, her chest heaving as she squared up to him, going toe to toe - she ignored the fact that Draco could probably flick her and she'd fall over. " _I_  need  _you_! I can't be there for them if I don't have you! And I know that sounds crazy. It sounds fucking ridiculous! How are these words even coming out of my mouth?" she stared at him, her eyes fathomless. "For God's sake! We hated each other. We  _despised_  each other, and now..." she took a deep breath and shook her head. "I don't know how the fuck this happened. I don't know how we got to this point. But here we are. I love you, Draco. I already told you once - in the bathroom," she swallowed thickly. "I'm not sure if you heard me. You were probably too far gone. But it's true. I'm sorry if my saying this makes you uncomfortable, but you need to know. You need to know how serious I' am about this.  _About us_. Stop trying to fight it."

Draco's whole body seemed to deflate as he took a step back and stared at her looking completely stunned. He looked so stunned, in fact, that she couldn't help but feel rather concerned for him. Well, at least he'd finally shut his trap and was listening now, that was something.

Hermione released another deep calming breath and continued. "Look, what happened last week was absolute hell. I  _never_  want to experience that again, but I'm also, in a weird way, grateful that it did happen, because it's made me realize just how important you are to me. It made me recognize that I don't have to question absolutely everything, and I should listen to my heart more often, and voice how I'm feeling, even when the thought of doing so scares me half to death. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Draco pulled his bottom lip into his mouth, his eyes still glued to hers in that intense unwavering way of his.

"You're not getting rid of me, Draco," she told him explicitly, her tone leaving no room for further argument. "I'm going to help you through this whether you want me to or not, so please just do us both a favour and accept it. It will make things a lot easier."

Draco stared at her for a few seconds longer and then shook his head, sighing deeply. "Just as pigheaded as ever. I shouldn't be surprised, but am I," he tilted his head and frowned, his expression bemused. "I was sure you'd want nothing do with me," he muttered. "You  _shouldn't_  want anything to do with me, but,  _yet again_ , you've proved me wrong."

Hermione smiled, her brown eyes sparkling. "Yes, well... I'm going to be here to prove you wrong time and time again, so I suggest you get used to it."

He let out an amused puff of air, one corner of his lips lifting into a crooked smile.

God, it was so good to see him smile again.

Her eyes dropped of their own accord and began a slow sweep of his magnificent body. Now that everything was relatively calm, she took the opportunity to properly take all of him in - his toned arms, his strong shoulders, his lean torso. He had noticeably lost some weight, but nothing too drastic. His abs and hips were more prominent than usual, but the V of his pelvis and his happy trail of golden-brown hair looked just as delicious as ever. The scarring on his chest was barely noticeable, only slightly if you knew what you were looking for. At a quick glance you wouldn't know any different. She supposed that his pale skin helped because the scars seemed to blend in. She flicked her eyes back up to his face, finding a sinful smirk now pulling at his lips, likely due to her open and leisurely perusal of his body. She marvelled at how handsome he was, he was so stunning, so real, so  _alive_ , and he was hers.  _All hers_...

"Promise me that you won't try to push me away again?" she suddenly blurted out of nowhere, her voice painfully tight and strained. This was her anxious side talking, rearing its ugly head, wanting, as well as needing, his reassurance.

Draco swallowed, his eyebrows drawing together and furrowing the skin between them. He took several steps towards her, his movements slow, careful and measured. "I promise," he assured her softly, reaching his hand out to gently touch her face. "I won't do it again...  _You win_ ," he told her, his voice dropping several octaves, and then, without warning, he was pulling her to him and wrapping his arms around her waist. His lips met hers in searing open-mouthed kiss that was all tongue, teeth, and hot breaths.

Hermione met him head on, her hands instantly coming up to wrap around his neck, squeeze his shoulders, trail down his arms and rake his back. She couldn't decide what to do with them. She wanted to touch him  _everywhere_ , all at once.

His lips were soft, yet firm against hers, confidently taking the lead in that dominating way she loved so much. It was like he was trying to consume her, his body pressing into hers as he also pulled her towards him, his arms strong and steady around her, despite the fact that he wasn't fully healed yet.

She could feel the thick hard length of his cock pressing into her stomach, hot and heavy through the thin layer of his light-grey pajama bottoms. It sent her crazy with lust and need. A moan tore from her throat, deep and guttural, as nerves low in her pelvis tightened and her core clenched, a deep throb pulsing at the apex of her thighs.

"Draco," she groaned, throwing her head back with a gasp as his hands ripped open the front of her jeans and delved inside, his fingers wasting no time in slipping between her wet folds.

Her whole body felt like it was alive with electricity, her skin thrumming with relentless currents. She felt like she was going to fall apart at any minute, combust on the spot, but she didn't want to, not yet.

" _Stop_ ," she choked out, her eyes widening as he plunged two fingers deep inside her.

His hand instantly stilled. "What?" he panted, pulling back so that his eyes could scan her face.

"Not like this," she told him breathlessly. "I want you inside me."

After a month without his touch, she wanted to come around his cock, not his fingers.

Draco stared deep into her eyes as he slowly dragged his fingers out of her pussy and up over her clit, his eyes darkening when a grunt escaped her lips and a visible shiver ran down her spine. He stepped back and away from her, his eyes still firmly on hers as he brought his glistening fingers up to his mouth and licked them with a satisfied hum of appreciation.

Hermione stared at him, mouth slack, eyes wide.  _Fuck_. Was he trying to kill her?

She quickly kicked her shoes off and yanked her coat off before pushing her jeans down her thighs and shimmying out of them. Draco watched thoroughly enthralled as she pulled her t-shirt over her head and deftly unclasped her bra, throwing it carelessly to the side. Her knickers swiftly followed in the same fashion.

Draco sucked a breath through his teeth. "Fuck me," he hissed, reaching down to palm his stiff cock.

"Oh, I intend to," Hermione smirked, prowling towards him like a lion in search of her prey.

Draco bit his bottom lip to smother a wicked smile. "My my, but I think I've created a monster," he commented casually, eyeing her approach expectantly.

When she reached him she bent down and yanked his pajama bottoms down his legs. His cock sprung free and bobbed in front of her face as he kicked them away with an impatient foot.

Hermione stared at the long impressive length of him, flushed an appeasing shade of pink, so hard and ready for her. She gripped him in her hand tightly and ducked her head to take him into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the swollen head and humming at the deliciously earthy taste that exploded along her taste buds.

Draco gripped her head in both of his hands and moaned deeply, gazing down and watching his cock disappear inside her mouth. "Fuck,  _fuck_. If you don't want me to come now, you'd better stop," he warned.

Hermione looked up at him through her eyelashes and released him with an audible  _pop._ She loved the intense look on his face - jaw tight, nostrils flared, eyes dark with desire. She couldn't get enough of him.

She straightened up and licked her lips teasingly, revelling in the way his entire body seemed to tense in response, his muscles flexing beneath his skin, his fists clenching with barely any control. "What are you waiting for?" she asked, eyebrow raised. "Come and get me."

Draco let loose a low growl and swooped towards her, swiftly lifting her up in his arms before throwing her on his bed.

She squealed in delight, full to bursting with eager anticipation of what was about to come.

Draco didn't disappoint. He wasted no time in climbing on top of her and lining his cock up to her dripping entrance. In one brutal thrust he was fully sheathed inside her and Hermione was screaming as the sensation of being filled so suddenly took over every last nerve ending in her body.

It was everything - it was bliss, it was just what she needed. Him, deep inside her, taking her and not holding back. His cock had never felt so deep, she could literally feel it in her stomach. She knew it was due to the fact that they hadn't had sex for four weeks, her body wasn't used to it. She would be sore tomorrow, but she didn't care. Right now it felt amazing, right now she didn't want anything else in the world but  _this_.

She gasped as she was suddenly flipped over so that she was instead on top of him, her thighs astride his hips, his cock still buried inside her. It felt even deeper in this position, if that was even possible.

"You said that you intended to fuck me," he breathed heavily, gazing up at her. "I want you to make good on your word," he reached up and palmed her breasts, the bandage on his left hand scrapping over her nipple and causing a delicious friction. "Fuck me good, Hermione," he purred, slowly thrusting up into her, his hands sliding down to her hips as his teeth clenched and his eyes hungrily devoured her.

At his words, her whole being pulsed with pleasure, her necklace joining in to match it in pace and rhythm. She lifted her hips up and then brought them back down again, his cock sliding out and then back in again.

"Fuck,  _yes_ , that's it," he hissed, eyes burning with desire. "Go faster, fuck me harder."

Hermione whimpered, his continued filthy dialogue doing sinful things to her lady parts. "Draco," she moaned, increasing the pace as she brought her hips down harder each time, creating loud obscene slapping sounds that ricocheted off the walls.

Draco's hands stayed firm on her hips, guiding her as he pulled her down onto him. "Fuck, it feels so good," he groaned. "I'm going to come soon, Hermione," he told her breathlessly. "I'm going to come inside you."

 _Holy fucking shit._ He'd never been this vocal before. It was  _so_  fucking hot, such a turn on.

She gripped his shoulders and began to bounce up and down on his cock, harder and faster than before.

"Fuck yes,  _fuck yes_ ," he growled deeply. "Arrrggghhhh, that's it.  _Fuck_."

Draco began to thrust up into her at the same time she brought her hips down, it was hot, it was raw, it was fucking amazing. "Draco," she gasped. "Oh god -" she broke off on a prolonged gasping moaned.

" _Yes_ , come for me," he urged in eager anticipation. "I want to feel your pussy pulsating on my cock."

 _Jesus Christ_ , when he put it like that she really had no other choice. With a deep guttural groan that started somewhere deep inside her, Hermione came around his cock, her walls clamping down and squeezing him like an iron fist. Waves upon waves of pleasure coursing through her with the force of a freight train.

" _Fucking hell_ ," Draco cried out brokenly, his face contorted in sweet agony, his cock kicking deep inside her. " _Fuck!_ "

They rode it together - hands clawing, mouths searching.

They were still in compromising positions - as in Draco was still cock-deep inside her - and had barely come down from their respective orgasms, when the door was suddenly flung open and a pair of shocked gasps echoed throughout the room.

Both their heads snapped towards the door - Hermione's in surprise, Draco's in annoyance - to find Blaise and Theo frozen in the doorway, staring at them. And then all hell broke loose.

Hermione began to scream, loud and high-pitched, as she scrambled off Draco and hastily wrapped herself in his bed sheet, trying,  _at the very least_ , to save a little bit of her modesty.

Theo also started screaming. He squeezed his eyes shut, expression thoroughly repulsed, as he covered his face with his hands and yelled. "My eyes! Oh God,  _my eyes!_  I just saw Draco's cock! Fucking hell!  _WHY?!_ " he gagged dramatically, spinning around in a circle and running straight into the wall.

Blaise, on the other hand, simply crossed his arms and pursed his lips, totally unfazed that Draco was still lying on his bed fully exposed. "Draco," he began in a calm, yet chiding tone. "What on earth are you playing at? You're not supposed to be indulging in any form of sexual activity in your current condition," he shook his head disapprovingly. "What did Snape say? He told you not to overexert yourself. By the looks of you two, I'd say you've done fucking more than that. Honestly, what am I going to do with you?" he sighed and walked further into the room.

"Can I open my eyes yet?" Theo asked weakly, using his hands to guide him around.

"NO!" Draco bellowed, reaching for the nearest thing he could get his hands on - which just happened to be Hermione's shoe - and throwing it at him.

"Ow!" Theo complained as it bounced off his head.

"Blaise! What the fuck are you doing?" Draco asked, completely exasperated.

Hermione watched in utter disbelief as Blaise casually walked over to his bed and proceeded to lie down on top of it, not a single care in the world. He grabbed a pair of reading glasses off his bedside table and pushed them up his nose before reaching for a book and opening it.

"Blaise!" Draco repeated, furious now.

"What?" he frowned, looking at Draco over the tops of his glasses, like he was the one being a bother.

Hermione couldn't help it, she let loose a very unladylike snort. Seriously, could Blaise get any weirder? He looked like an old man sat up in his bed with his legs crossed and a book in his hand. The way he was looking at Draco over the tops of his glasses, an impatient expression on his face, was what really did it. It pushed her over the edge and had her dissolving into great peals of laughter.

Draco turned his head slowly and gazed at her like she'd grown a second head, probably wondering who she was and what she'd done with Hermione, because the Hermione he knew would never find something like this funny.

It didn't help that Theo had started to join in, and together they egged each other on, gasping through endless tears of laughter.

"For fucks sake, I give up," Draco announced, throwing his hands up in the air as he grabbed his pajama bottoms and shoved them on.

"What are they laughing at?" Blaise asked Draco, blinking over the tops of his glasses.

Hermione and Theo's laughter had been winding down to small giggles, but at Blaise's seemingly innocent question, it ramped back up again. Hermione even ended up having to lie down when she found it increasingly difficult to remain upright.

"Who knows?" Draco shook his head. "I'm surrounded by weirdos."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, HAPPY AUSTRALIA DAY TO ANY AUSSIES READING! :DDD
> 
> I just want to say, thank you soooo much for being so sweet and understanding in regards to my anxiety with the last chapter. I can't tell you how much your lovely comments mean to me. I keep going back to re-read them. Aaaah, you guys are the best. I wish I could hug each and every one of you.
> 
> So what did you think of this chapter? I really hope you enjoyed it. It was a bitch to write! LOL. I deleted close to 10,000 words because I just wasn't feeling it. I would write an entire scene and then read over it and decide I absolutely hate it. I'm not mad though, this kind of thing happens from time to time. Thankfully not too often! Otherwise it would drive me up the wall. Mostly this story has been smooth sailing, so for that I'm very grateful.
> 
> I'm really sorry this chapter was late, I actually had it almost finished by mid December, but then I had family arrive from overseas to spend Christmas with us, so I didn't have a chance to wrap it up and send it to my lovely beta, Black_Osmosis.
> 
> I know my recent chapters seems to be taking me forever to write/post, but please realize that they are much longer than the earlier chapters. The first 9 chapters were between 4,000 - 6,000 words. This chapter alone was over 20,000 words, so naturally the longer ones are going to take more time. I'm happy to try and shorten them again if you prefer more frequent chapters? Please let me know your thoughts :D.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and sticking with me, your patience and support is everything. Sending lots of love and gratitude xoxo
> 
> Massive thanks to Black_Osmosis, you are amazing and I don't know what I'd do without you. You challenged me with this chapter, asking me to rethink/reword certain passages, and I'm so glad you did. When writing angsty chapters like this one things can be easily overlooked. It's super annoying, but it happens. I hope you know how thankful I' am for your amazing editing skills! :D You are the best! Big love and hugs xoxoxox


End file.
